


Go-To Girl

by OriginalCeenote



Category: Archie Comics & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Betty is Tired of Your Shit Archie Andrews, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Jughead's Insensitivity, Low Self Esteem, Mixed Signals, Pining, Playing Hard to Get Trope, Reggie Mantle is a Dick, Sassy Ethel, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4620600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/pseuds/OriginalCeenote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Question: How do you make the aloof guy like the awkward girl? Answer: Convince him he can’t have her. Archie/Ethel</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure where I’m going with this. However, this is in response to a challenge issued by sintah, an excellent brainstormer and Beggie author, who has fed my considerable insanity and addiction to Ethel.

Go-To Girl

 

Ethel steeled herself and fought the butterflies in her stomach as she shyly approached the bank of lockers to the left of the library door. Locker three-eighty-one. Its door had a dent, the souvenir of a scuffle between Reggie and Big Moose. It also hung open wide, revealing only the back of its owner’s silhouette. Ethel hugged her books to her chest and minutely fluffed her bangs before she breathlessly spoke up. “Hi, Juggie.” Her heart flipped when she heard him pause in his rummaging, right before he ducked back from his task and confronted her voice.

His face was an unreadable mask, filling her with icy panic. Tellingly, his body remained partly obscured by his locker door, as though he would place it as a wall between them. _Quick, Ethel Lorraine! Say something clever!_ “Cleaning house?” she offered.

“Lost cause,” he shrugged, and she wanted to clap her hands as he made eye contact. His were almond-shaped and slate blue, and his dark brows were arched, perfect for raising in mock surprise or cocking one at a time in disbelief.

“Oh, it can’t be that bad,” she argued cheerfully, and she felt like she was barging in as she skirted around to the side for a better peek.

She almost wished she hadn’t. Forsythe P. Jones, her unrequited crush since kindergarten, aka Jughead… was a slob. “Want me to get a wastebasket?” she suggested politely. She wrinkled her nose briefly at the odor of sweat socks, a crumpled Fritos bag, and something unnamable that beggared her imagination.

“Nah. I’m good.” He stepped back and gave the door a cavalier slam with his foot and began to lope away. His stride was lanky, but she kept up with him easily as he made his way down the crowded corridor.

“Did you study for the history quiz?”

“More or less.”

“Want my notes?”

“I’m fine.”

“Or flash cards. I have them right here in my purse.”

He sighed heavily and tried to ignore her. “Got my own. I think I’m ready for the quiz, Bee.” Ethel cringed.

There it was. That damned nickname again. Big Ethel. Was that how everyone still saw her? Every year that she could remember, Ethel Muggs was the tallest girl in class, towering over two-thirds of the boys in Riverdale Elementary, Riverdale Middle School, Riverdale Junior, and how the good ol’ Blue and Gold. “Want a mint? It’s nice to have something to suck on. I always thought so… er…” She blushed furiously when it occurred to her what she just said. “I mean, uh, suck on… uh, have something to do with your mouth – my mouth – when you’re testing, I mean, when I’m taking a test. Geez…”

A voice in her head screamed out, What the heck are you doing? Followed shortly by Don’t look at his mouth… darn it. Darn it, darn it, darn it! She forced herself to look into his eyes and mustered her courage. Ethel held out a roll of Pep-O-Mint Lifesavers with a long curl of foil paper peeled back from the end. “Want one?” she blurted out, wishing she could sink into the ground.

Jughead’s expression lived somewhere in the avenue between Amusement Street and Annoyance Drive. He kept walking, and Ethel hurried ahead of him to open the classroom door. To her delight, he nudged her hand from the knob and nodded for her to go in first. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!” she gushed.

“You’re a girl. I kinda did.” But it was something, right?

Right?

“Sure you don’t want one?” she said, brandishing the mints again. Jug shrugged and waited patiently for her to pop one of the mints out from the roll and drop it into his palm. He tossed it into his mouth and muttered “Thanks.”

“Sure.” Her cheeks were flaming again, but this time she felt triumphant.

She was wearing him down. Slowly but surely.

Miss Grundy sauntered to the front of the class with a stack of quiz sheets and her lesson book. Her low, sensible heels thumped over the bland gray tile, and her flowery perfume tickled Ethel’s nose. It was an excusable offense; Ethel loved Miss Grundy’s history and English classes. “I want those books under your seats. Sharpen your pencils. Let me know if you don’t have one. I hope you reviewed Chapter Ten last night and used your flash cards.” She was greeted by a few groans of disappointment. Ethel wasn’t concerned; she’d studied all week. It was easy enough to do, when she didn’t have anywhere special to be.

Her cell phone had been silent all week, except for a call from Betty to ask her if she was making anything for the junior/senior prom bake sale fundraiser. Ethel wondered what she was doing wrong.

She’d helped him with carrying things from his car and unloading his drum kit from the back of Moose’s pickup when he had gigs. She’d attended all of his gigs. She brought him his homework when he was home sick with the flu. She backed him brownies, the rocky road ones and the oatmeal bars. She lent him soda money when he misplaced his wallet and treated him at Pop’s to “sweeten the deal” when she asked him to meet her to study at the library. He agreed. They ate. And he casually stood her up.

She snuck looks at him all through the quiz, studying her favorite details of his appearance. His customary hat rested on his head, allowable only because it didn’t have a brim or any slogans or logos on it; he was tiptoeing just inside the lines of the school dress code. His nails were clean but slightly long. He almost needed a haircut; his bangs were beginning to fall into his eyes. He wore a royal blue Southpole shirt with a huge white ‘S’ screened on the front, and his sagging jeans were fading from black to charcoal gray, clearly his favorites.

He was left-handed. He had a small flat mole on the side of his neck. His nostrils flared when he was deep in thought.

Or annoyed at being stared at. Crap… yup. He was annoyed, if the way he jerked around and mouthed “What’s your deal, Bee?” was any indication. Ethel flushed and ducked her head, suddenly very, very interested in her quiz, even though she was already finished. “Time’s up!” Miss Grundy called out mercifully. “Pass them up to the front desk! Then I want you to open your books to page three-twenty-two. “Who read about the Trotsky Rebellion last night?” Several voices groaned back in reply. Dilton was already diligently raising his hand. Ethel sighed. It was going to be a long half-hour until she could talk to Juggie again.

Not that it mattered. He was out the door like a shot at the bell.

*

 

Archie had stepped in it again. Betty’s blue eyes pinned him accusingly while his mind raced for possible answers to the inevitable grilling. Just stick a fork in him in a minute; he was just about finished.

“I tried to call you last night.”

“Um… did you text me?” he asked hopefully.

“Three times,” she admitted, and her hand automatically reached up to twirl her blonde ponytail, a disarming gesture, but her voice was slightly wheedling. Archie sighed. He almost hated playing this game.

“I didn’t get them.”

“Sure you just didn’t read them?” she suggested.

“Aw… Bets, c’mon.”

“Guess you were just busy. You told me you wouldn’t be.” Her demure smile didn’t reach her blue eyes, and Archie felt like a heel.

But a vision of Veronica in her skimpy black halter top flashed in his mind, and he remembered how sweet she smelled in the passenger seat of his car as he leaned in to kiss her goodnight. Her smile was flirtatious and smug, just for him…

He felt himself drifting into his fantasy, and Betty’s low clearing of her throat brought him back down to earth. “What?”

“You were busy,” she repeated.

“Yeah, uh… I guess I was. Uh, I had a quiz in French…”

“You’re not taking French this quarter.”

“Spanish.”

“You were at the movies with Ronnie.”

“Yeah, but… wait. What?”

“She texted me last period. I guess I just wanted to hear you say it out loud.”

“Bets… c’mon.” Panic filled his chest.

“Uh-uh. It’s not you, it’s me.” Her voice was deadpan, but her smile held a certain helplessness, and it wobbled. “How could you just lie?”

“I didn’t want to!”

“But you did! God, I’m so stupid.” Betty shook her head and laughed, a mirthless, gritty sound. Archie felt something inside him shrivel and an ugly chill ran down his back.

He was a jerk. He’d just treated Betty Cooper, the sweetest girl he knew since kindergarten, like crap.

“Don’t say that, Betty! You’re not-“

“I must be. I must be, because there’s no way I’d put up with this from you if I had the sense of a gnat.” Archie frowned briefly. Did gnats have strong senses? No, no, focus, man! “I know you like her, but then you tell me you like me. And I wait for you to call, Archie. I get excited about hearing from you, because I love spending time with you. But then you just make me wait. You make me wonder where you are when I do get a hold of you at all.” She began walking away from him, and out of some morbid fascination, Archie refused to believe he was being dismissed. He followed her, kicking his locker door shut behind him.

“Ronnie called me first, she asked me to meet her at the movies because she was already there.”

“Of course she was. Much easier than calling me while I was waiting for you at Pop’s.”

Shit… “I thought you were at home.”

“I thought you were at home.” Archie edged and weaved his way around the tide of students that swarmed down the hall in an effort to keep up with her. A voice inside him warned him, Let her go. She’s ticked off. Let her cool down. And, he admitted, Ronnie wouldn’t be too thrilled if he saw him chasing after her BFF, would she?

Was he chasing her?

Yes. He was. Betty Cooper was walking away from him, something that never happened, and he was compelled to follow her, to watch her shapely little hips rolling smoothly past him in dark wash jeans that fit like a glove. In her own way, Betty was as pretty as Veronica but owned none of her glamour. If Veronica was the quintessential Girly Girl, then Betty was the Tomboy, her perfect opposite, wholesome and approachable.

But he noticed more often than not, it was fun to chase Betty when she was walking away. It just… made her more desirable. He had to work for it. He’d never tell her that, never in a million years. Archie Andrews would never, ever divulge that part of Veronica’s allure was that she was too good for him. Unattainable. Bad for him, just like hard candy.

If Betty knew that… well, she wouldn’t be Betty. Good ol’ Betty, the sweetheart who baked him cupcakes with blue sprinkles and lent him her texts when he forgot to bring his to school. Reliable Betty, best chemistry lab partner in the world and the fastest typist in computer lab when he ran late with turning in a finished report, double-spaced with one-inch margins. Betty, who never left him hanging and who showered him with attention.

Well… maybe too much attention.

Ethel spied them and waved to Betty, but she was surprised to watch one of her best friends hurry by and ignore her. Her posture was stiff and her expression was set in hard lines. “Uh-oh,” Ethel muttered. She knew that look.

Sure enough, there was the bad taste in Betty’s mouth, chasing her down and looking like he deserved a good, swift smack with a rolled-up newspaper. Ethel shook her head. “What’s wrong with you, Arch? Sheesh…” She felt a mixture of pity and frustration on Betty’s behalf.

“I didn’t lie to you, Bets. I just forgot that we made plans for the same time.”

“So it would have been fine if you’d made plans with me earlier in the day, maybe. That’s what you’re telling me? Meet me at Pop’s for a soda, then take Ron to dinner?”

“The movies,” Archie corrected her, then bit his tongue. He kept stepping in it. Betty rolled her eyes.

“Right. My bad. I’m going to algebra, now.”

“Betty… Betty. Look, call me. Text me.”

“Read my other ones first,” she tossed back.

“Geez,” he muttered as she sailed into her classroom. His shoulders sank, and Ethel almost pitied him.

Almost. Not quite. The fact that Betty allowed him to treat her like pond scum didn’t actually excuse him from doing it. It baffled Ethel.

Especially since, for the most part, Archie could be a decent guy. He wasn’t mean spirited or even snobby. He was just fickle. Ethel couldn’t fathom what made a boy so unable to make up his mind.

Archie Andrews attracted girls easily. Ethel supposed it was his approachable good looks, like his wavy red hair and boyish profile, or his blue eyes that always seemed to change with his moods or the weather. Archie was a “happy medium,” just the right height, just the right weight, and athletically built without being huge, like Moose. Ethel, at five-nine, was easily tall enough to stare him in the eye. The fact that Jughead was taller than she was appealed to her. It sucked always being the tallest girl. Sucked.

Ethel sometimes wished she could be everyone’s “cup of tea” like that. Not to actually look like Archie, but just to appeal to so many members of the opposite sex. Even just catching the eye of one in particular, who had a penchant for unusual headgear, might be nice… If I were that popular, I’d never just string someone along like that. If I had a boyfriend, he’d be the only one for me. I wouldn’t play games.

*

Jughead heard rapid footsteps swooping up from behind him, and he instinctively quickened his own pace on his way to his car. “Nooooo,” he muttered as he dug into his pocket for his keys.

“Juggie!”

“Gads,” he spat, and he steeled himself. Ethel looked out of breath, like she’d run after him. She adjusted her books, propping them against her bony hip. She looked him over briefly.

“You walk fast,” she claimed.

“Not fast enough.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Just headed home. Lot of homework.” His single binder under his arm disputed that. Ethel cleared her throat.

“Are you just headed home? Or to the library?”

“Probably Pop’s first.”

“That sounds good!”

“Not for too long,” he amended.

“I could meet you th-“

“Nah. Don’t wait on me.”

“Well, I was heading over there, anyway.” She scuffed her shoe against the black top.

“Look, Bee…” Jughead weighed his annoyance against the hopeful look on her face, hating how conflicted he felt. Her gray eyes were so eager, and she looked so expectant. “I didn’t really plan on going there with anybody.”

“Well, you’re by yourself, and I’m by myself,” she explained, shrugging. “We could both go, if I’m not interrupting your plans.”

But you are! Shrieked the voices in his mind. Jughead’s plans involved conjugating his reflexive verbs in Spanish while inhaling a double bacon, double cheese at Pop’s to tide him over until dinner. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to Ethel prattle on about… well, whatever it was that she wanted to talk about.

She was nice. But she was cloying. Silly. Too eager.

It just didn’t work for him. She just didn’t do it for him.

“Ethel…”

“JUG!” Jughead looked up in relief at the sight of his best friend cutting across the crowded lot, waving him down. There it was, a perfect excuse.

“Arch is gonna wanna hang out. I’m already booked for today, Bee. Maybe some other time.”

“What?”

“Hey, man!” Jughead hurried away from his car and chided him, “Don’t leave me hanging!” They low-fived, and Archie slugged him briefly. “When are you coming over to play Final Fantasy?”

“The new one?”

“Yeah, the new one!” Ethel felt discouraged at the turn of the discussion. She wasn’t a gamer, and overhearing Dilton and Moose’s discussions about missions, sieges and invasions made her eyes glaze over during study hall.

“Sweet. I’m gonna wait til I can get a copy of it used.”

“Why? They’ll have the next version of it out by then.”

“No kidding. I just don’t have that kind of cash.” Archie belatedly noticed that Ethel was watching them, offering a polite smile. “Hey, Ethel.”

“Hi. What’s up.”

“Nothing much. Nothing new.”

“Same old, same ol’,” Ethel agreed easily enough, even though she wanted to demand, How’s breaking my best friend’s heart working out for you?

“That a new necklace?” Ethel reached up to finger it, forgetting that she even had it on.

“Oh. Yeah. It is.”

“It’s fun.” He didn’t say “cute.” He said “fun.” But Ethel was almost flattered that he even noticed.

“Gotta love Spongebob,” she allowed. She toyed with the small, yellow pendant idly. “Are you going to Pop’s?” Ethel inquired.

“I wasn’t,” Archie began, but Jughead cut in quickly.

“I’ll meet you over there, dude. Then we can go back to my place.”

“How’s Sephiroth in this one?”

“Bad-ass,” Jughead confirmed smugly.

And on that note… Ethel sighed. “Guess I’ll see you guys later,” she announced. She began to walk away, reluctantly and as casually as she could manage.

“Yup. Later,” Archie replied, waving and grinning.

“Later. Like tomorrow, later,” Jughead qualified. Ethel waved and turned away, making her way to her own car. Archie waited until she was out of sight before he slugged Jug. “What was that for?”

“Dude. Be nice.”

“Why? It’ll only encourage her. I don’t want to encourage Big Ethel, man. You don’t get it.”

“She likes you, Jug. Don’t be like that.”

“So? And don’t be like what? I’m not trying to get her to like me, but she’s always right there, in my face, every time I turn around. It’s like waiting for the knife behind the shower curtain in Psycho. Ree, ree, ree!” he squawked, imitating the sound of those famous fiddles and making stabbing motions in the air. Archie snorted.

“She’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? Dude… all day, it’s ‘Juggie! Wanna copy my notes? Want some gum? Want me to rub your feet and peel you a grape? Want me to have your children?’”

“That’s… not a visual image I wanted in my head.” Archie wrinkled his nose.

“Ethel and me getting it on?”

“No. Kids who look like you. But thanks for the other image, too. It’s going to haunt me.” Jughead elbowed him sharply. “Hey, hey, hey!”

“Asshat.”

“Ethel’s cool.”

“You date her.”

“I’ve got my own problems, man.” Jughead made a face and shook his head.

“Arch, I told you. I said don’t play games with those two, and you went right out and played. Which one was it this time?”

“Ronnie texted Betty after I took her home from the movies.”

“Ouch. Dude.”

“Betty’s not talking to me.”

“That’ll last for two hours. Maybe three.” Jughead snorted. “When are you gonna stop dangling her?”

“I’m not dangling her!” Archie insisted.

“Did you tell her you were going to call her after school?” Jughead asked blandly.

“Yeah. So?”

“Have you already texted Veronica since your class got out?”

“Yeah. And?”

“Have you already made plans with Veronica to go study at her house or meet her at Pop’s?” Jughead continued, waiting for it to dawn on him. Archie looked oblivious.

“Why?”

“Have you?”

“I was going to head to Ron’s, since Betty’s not talking to me, anyway-“

“Eeeeennhhh! Wrong answer,” Jughead crowed, punctuating his buzzer noise by holding up his finger and thumb in an ‘L’ over his forehead. “That’s your problem, right there. You date one. You make the other one mad. The first one gets mad when you call the other one to make up. The second one doesn’t want to be outdone, and she calls you when the first one isn’t returning your calls. And it just goes round, and round, and round.” Jughead circled his finger through the air between them.

“You want to talk to me about dangling? Let Ethel off the hook!”

“She won’t get the message.”

“Then be blunt. Tell her to get lost.” Archie was vexed and indignant about being called out on his own game, and Jughead’s situation was a welcome distraction from his own troubles. Why pick the log out of his own eye, when Jughead needed help with his splinter?

“Bye, Jug! Bye, Archie!” They heard Ethel calling from her open window of her tiny, battered Volkswagen Beetle, stopping at the corner of the parking lot’s entrance. The car behind her honked impatiently, and she sheepishly turned pulled onto the road.

“What would we do without Ethel?” Archie deadpanned. He elbowed Jug.

“Get bent.”


	2. Not That Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Archie notices Ethel stumbling and takes pity on her, despite his best friend’s wishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really had fun with the last chapter. I have no idea where I’m going with this. Be warned. But read it anyway!

“I don’t get it. Why doesn’t he pay attention to me?” Ethel moaned, stirring her soda miserably with her red plastic straw. Nancy, Brigitte and Midge exchanged knowing looks and hedged to the best of their ability.

“Girl, don’t worry about Jughead. He’s a man. He’ll pay attention soon enough. You just need the right bait.”

“Bait? But I’ve tried everything! I wear his favorite color, I listen to his favorite music on my iPhone whenever he’s around, I bake him cookies…”

“That’s laying it on a little thick,” Midge mentioned carefully, not wanting to hurt Ethel’s feelings. “I didn’t do all that to attract Moose.”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” Brigitte emphasized. “He follows you around like a puppy.”

“A St. Bernard,” Nancy corrected her, tsking. “Midge is right, though, girl. Don’t let him use you as a doormat. No man’s worth all that trouble. He’ll take you for granted if you let him.”

“He’s not treating me like a doormat. I don’t feel like one, anyway.”

“He’ll come around,” Brigitte said, in an attempt to console her. “You’re cute! I wish I was as skinny as you. Boys never notice me. It sucks being the fat girl.”

“Curvy,” Nancy told her pointedly. “What’s this ‘fat girl’ stuff? A man wants something he can reach out and grab, Bridge, and there’s nothing wrong with having a little meat on your bones. Works out fine for me.” Nancy slapped her hip for emphasis, making her friends giggle. “Chuck’s not complaining.”

“I’m a blob,” Brigitte complained. “I tried on a red dress last weekend that I wanted to wear to my recital next month, and it made me look like Kool-Aid Man.”

“Girl, you ain’t right,” Nancy chuckled. “Bet it looked good. You can wear a little red if you want to!”

“I don’t want to stand out. I’d feel weird if people stared at me.”

“It’s a recital. People are gonna stare while they’re listening to you, anyway,” Midge reminded her. “So why not wear what you like?”

“That’s just not me. I’m big,” she qualified, “but I’m not ‘large and in charge.’ That’s not how I roll.”

“There’s nothing wrong with how you look, Brigitte.” Ethel’s voice then grew disparaging toward her own predicament. “I look like a pipe cleaner. No boobs. No hips. Nada.”

“I’ll give you some of mine,” Brigitte suggested as she took a bite of her hot dog. “And I’ll lend you my spare tire.”

“Thanks,” Ethel murmured. “Sorry I’m such a drag, guys.”

“Nah,” Midge told her. “So he’s giving you the cold shoulder, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I hate that,” Brigitte agreed. “What’s even worse is when you finally have a guy ask for your number, and then they don’t bother to call.”

“No one’s ever even asked me for mine!”

“It’s overrated,” she countered. Brigitte had the rare guy chat her up every once in a while, but it seldom led to anything but her anxiously watching the phone.

“I’ll tell you one thing, girl,” Nancy piped up. “Don’t stalk him.”

“I don’t!”

“No?” she challenged, giving Ethel a brief neck roll and accusing glance.

“Well, not much…”

“How many times a day do you catch him at his locker?”

“Well… twice. Sometimes. Maybe three, if you count before homeroom.” Ethel’s cheeks flamed.

“What period does he have lunch?”

“Sixth.”

“Where does he sit?”

“The last round table in back, on the left. Why?”

“What does he always eat?”

“Everyone knows that! A pepperoni pizza, two Jell-Os, an order of fries, the barbecue burger and a Power-Ade.”

“I didn’t know that,” Brigitte pointed out.

“Me either. Kinda glad I didn’t up until now. Ew.” Midge wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“You’re stalking him,” Nancy finished. “Plain and simple.”

The girls’ attention changed from Ethel’s plight to the ding of Pop Tate’s door as a familiar redhead loitered inside the shop. “There’s his partner in crime,” Nancy mused.

“Now there’s someone I wish I could be like.”

“What, redheaded?” Brigitte wondered, puzzled.

“No. Popular. Great with the opposite sex. You know. Hot,” Ethel pronounced.

“Good point,” Brigitte agreed.

“Co-sign,” Midge murmured as she toyed with her fries.

“Guess I’d tap that, if he weren’t such a dog.” Nancy’s lip curled and she tsked. Ethel was mortified, hoping Archie didn’t hear them. He turned, sensing that he was being watched, and a lopsided smile greeted them.

“What’s up.”

“Hey,” Ethel called out. “Come on over!” He obliged, dutifully sitting down at their circular booth when Ethel slid over. He smelled good, Ethel noticed, like sports body wash and laundry detergent. “Are you here alone? Are you meeting anybody?” Her mind screamed, Like Juggie, maybe? As if heard her real question, Archie shrugged and burst her bubble.

“It’s just me. Jug has a test tomorrow, so he’s on lockdown. His mom promised him burgers off the grill if he stayed home and studied for it.” Ethel’s hopes were dashed, but that inspired her next likely food bribe that she could ply him with. I wonder how his mom makes them? she wondered. “Guess I’m just chopped liver, huh?”

“Huh?”

“You look disappointed.”

“Oh. No! Nooooo. Thanks for coming over. Hang out a while!”

“I’m going to order something to take home,” Archie confessed, but he was smirking at Ethel’s discomfiture and the way her cheeks flushed. It was fun to play with her, once in a while.

“Just as well. You know we’re gonna talk about your behind as soon as you leave this table,” Nancy teased. “Speaking of which, I need to call Chuck’s.” Nancy excused herself and headed toward the door. The girls watched her through the shop window, amused at the change in her body language and gestures as she reached him on her tiny smartphone.

“What else are you doing today, Arch?”

“Nothing. My homework’s already done; I finished my algebra in study hall. I might go shoot some hoops at Riverdale Junior’s court.” The junior high school had an outdoor court on their grounds and it was right down the road from Archie’s house. “I thought about practicing my guitar for a while, too, but Mom won’t let me plug in on a school day.”

“You can’t use your amps?” Brigitte asked.

“Nope. Sucks.”

“When’s your next show?” Ethel perked up again. If Archie was practicing, so was Juggie. Another show meant another opportunity to run into him outside of school. Ethel loved hearing him play. Archie brightened, warming to the subject.

“We might have one next month at the mall. It’ll be on a Saturday. Ron’s dad said we have to meet with him about the music so he can select something ‘suitable.’” Archie made finger quotes and pulled a face. Ethel giggled at his expression.

“Know any big band music? Lawrence Welk? Beethoven?”

“Yeek. No, thanks.” He patted her back briefly, a gesture Ethel wasn’t expecting. His hand was warm… “I’m gonna order and bail. Good seeing you guys. Later, bud.” He made a little shooting motion at Ethel and winked before he left the table. Ethel suppressed a pout; it had been nice to talk to him.

He also left before she could ask him anything else about Juggie. Oh, well. Tomorrow was another day.

 

Archie gave the girls one more parting wave as he left the shop with his to-go carton, leaving them an easy smile. He sighed to himself as he reached his car and keyed the ignition. Ethel. What was wrong with that girl? He paused in shifting gears when his cell buzzed at him, telling him he had a text.

Betty. No surprise. Archie hoped she wasn’t still pissed. He let the engine idle a few moments as he read her message. Archie sighed again. She wanted to meet him.

We have that French paper to work on. I’m headed to the library. Wanna meet me in the references section at four? Archie shrugged to himself. She was right. Even if she was mad at him, they were still partnered up for their history report. Betty had already done a lot of research and lent him her notes; the most Archie had written so far was the outline. It wasn’t fair to let her do all the work herself. That left his original plan to go to the basketball court in the dust.

The problem was, what if Veronica called him? He checked his messages, scanning for new ones, but Betty’s was the only one in his inbox so far. Archie decided to move it along, since there was a green car that had circled the block twice, waiting for him to vacate his parking spot. The smell of his food was torture, but Archie didn’t want to eat and drive. He’d just cleaned out his car of about a week’s worth of empty chip bags and fast food cups and vacuumed the seats.

He made up his mind by the time he reached his house. Archie locked his car and was texting with his left thumb as he entered the front hall. “Archie?” his mother called out from the kitchen.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Where were you? What took you so long to get home?”

“I just stopped at Pop’s.”

“Don’t eat that! I’m making dinner,” she scolded as she met him in the hall. She took his jacket from him before he could toss it on the floor, then frowned when it looked like he would kick his shoes off, too. Archie dutifully followed her into the kitchen and hung his jacket on the peg by the back door. He brought the carton to the cedar island in the middle of the room and began eating his fries.

“I’m still gonna be hungry. I want to eat something before I go to the library. I’m meeting Betty at four.”

“Why so late?” Mary Andrews complained. “Tell her to meet you earlier.”

“I won’t be gone that long. I’ll just stay til five-thirty. The library closes at six, anyway.”

“That’s still late,” she reminded him. “That’s fine. That’s a lot of food.”

“It’s not that much,” he argued as he bit into the dripping deluxe bacon burger, lapping a bit of barbecue sauce from his thumb. Pop had done it again; it was fantastic. Mary marveled at her son’s appetite. Thankfully he didn’t eat like his friend Forsythe, but having a teenaged boy still put a dent in her wallet every week when she bought groceries. She almost wanted to remind him that his father had been built like him once, but that his metabolism hadn’t kept up with all of his favorite fried chicken dinners after they were married. He’d learn, she supposed. And Mary loved every inch of Fred Andrews, receding hairline, paunch and all.

“Oh, by the way… were you expecting a call from Veronica?” Archie choked on a fry and coughed. “Don’t eat so fast! Are you all right?”

“Fine… I’m fine. When?” Archie’s eyes watered as he cleared his throat.

“Right after school got out. I told her you’d call back when you got home, but I wasn’t expecting you to be gone so long.”

“I stopped at Jug’s first. Then Pop’s.”

“You need to call me when you do that. At least check in,” she scolded. “Don’t drip on my clean table!”

“Sorry,” he shrugged. Archie dragged a fry through the ketchup leaking from his burger and crammed it into his mouth, blissfully ignorant of everything else.

“What’s Betty up to, anyway? I haven’t heard you mention her lately.”

“She’s fine,” Archie said evasively.

“I’m so used to seeing you two text each other all the time.” Mary began washing the pots and pans in the sink as she grilled him. “Betty’s a nice girl.”

“I know, Ma.”

“At least she remembers to put her clothes on in the morning.” Archie almost choked on his food. “Veronica’s going to catch pneumonia one of these days. How can her mother let her go out the door like that?”

“Ronnie looks fine!” he protested.

“Of course you think so. You’re male, so your opinion’s disqualified as having any validity here. She called, too, by the way.”

“That’s nice.” That was the nail in Archie’s coffin. Great.

“It’s like you have your own fan club,” Mary remarked dryly.

“Nah. Ma… sheesh. It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like? It looks like you’re dating two girls at the same time from where I’m sitting. That’s not nice.”

“Ma!”

“Don’t ‘Ma’ me. I call it like I see it, and what I see is my son not acting like a gentleman. It’s wrong to string people along and make them have expectations that they shouldn’t.”

“I’m not stringing them along. I like both of them.”

“That’s no excuse. Dating more than one person at a time just means twice the problems down the road.”

“I’m not having problems right now,” he argued simply. “I can’t help it if they both like me.”

“You can help playing games with them. That’s wrong, son.”

“Ma,” he whined, tsking in disgust. “What’s the big deal? I like them. They like me. And I’m young. It’s not like I need to be tied down to one person, anyway.”

“This isn’t about being ‘tied down.’ It’s about loyalty and treating someone right if you want them to stick around. Betty’s a nice girl.”

“So’s Ronnie.”

“I’m not saying she isn’t. She’s just… how can I put this? Spoiled. Yes, that’s the word I’m looking for. Veronica Lodge is very, very spoiled.”

“Nah. Ron’s fun.”

“Fun.” Mary rolled her blue eyes heavenward. “Tell her that fun doesn’t have to involve you always asking for advances on your allowance to take her out.”

“I like showing her a good time.”

“Then be more resourceful. Creative, even.”

“Like what? Picking daisies? Going fishing?” Archie teased. Mary swatted him upside the back of the head with a dish towel.

“You don’t have bottomless pockets. The well’s going to run dry. And there isn’t enough of you to go around, either, Archie.”

“Sure there is!” That earned him another swat.

“No.”

“Ma. Ma. It’s no big deal. I’m just having fun. Whenever either one of them gets sick of me, then it’s over. I’ll date the one who likes me the most. How’s that a problem?” He shrugged and smirked. “Everything works out fine.” He continued to inhale his burger. Mary shook her head.

“You’ve got a long road ahead. Just don’t end up in the news.”

“Like what?”

“Teenage Boy Narrowly Escapes Double Homicide Attempt. Details at eleven.”

 

The library visit went about as Archie expected. Betty was aloof toward him, but she’d already found several useful references and made copies by the time he met her. They sat in relative silence, highlighting and taking down notes. Betty frowned when she noticed that he kept looking down into his lap.

“What’re you doing?”

“Nothing.” She saw his eyes flitting back and forth at whatever he was looking at so intently.

“You’re texting her, aren’t you?” Betty folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at him, fuming.

“I’m just messaging her back. It’s no big deal, Betty.”

“No big deal?” she sputtered. The librarian shushed them in passing, and Betty gave her a conciliatory smile. Once they were alone again, Betty hissed at him in an angry whisper. “Are you going to spend the rest of our study time messaging her? You’ll do homework with me, and then go run off with her to Pop’s?”

“No. That’s not what I planned.” That didn’t mean it wasn’t what Ronnie planned, however. Her last text asked him to come over to her place after dinner to watch The Voice with her and have s’mores.

“You’re going to meet up with her,” she rephrased more bluntly.

“Well…” he hedged.

“I’m done. I’ve had enough.” Betty clapped the reference book shut and began gathering up her notes.

“Bets! It’s not that late yet, we still have time before everything closes! Don’t be mad!” he cajoled, trying to give her a disarming smile, but it was too little, too late.

“I’m sick of you chasing after her! Archie Andrews, do you consider me your girlfriend?”

“Huh?” That took him aback.

“Your girlfriend. Not just a friend who happens to be a girl.” She cocked one blonde brow. “I’m waiting.”

“You and I have fun when we hang out. You’re an awesome girl, Bets. There’s no one like you!”

“But that doesn’t mean there’s no one else but me,” she challenged. “I’m tired of wondering. I’m tired of guessing whether you’re out with her when you don’t return my calls.”

“I can’t be free every moment of the day.” That earned him a huff of disgust, and Betty turned on her heel, ponytail flying out behind her. Archie panicked. “Bets! Hold on!”

“I’d never do this to you, or to anyone else that I cared about. I’m such an idiot,” she muttered under her breath.

“No, you’re not!” He caught up to her as she exited the front lobby, and he thrust himself into her path before she could descend the steps to the parking lot. “I do care about you, Betty.”

“You care about Ron more. She’s my best friend. You’re a snake, Archie. I mean, it’d almost be better if she was at least someone I didn’t know.” Betty’s eyes swam with tears, and Archie felt like a heel.

Yet he still turned things around, and he made it about himself. About his feelings.

“Betty,” he told her calmly, taking her shoulders and pulling her toward him. She ducked her head from beneath his gaze, and she swatted at his hand as he tried to turn her face in his direction. “C’mon, Bets. C’mon. It’s not like that. I care about you. You mean a lot to me.”

“No, I don’t. I’m not special to you, or you couldn’t do this. I keep giving you an inch, Archie. I keep giving you the benefit, but it’s not benefiting me anymore.” It was so tempting to let him hold her while she was so distraught, to give in to that craving for his reassurance. But every time, it just broke open the scab before it could heal.

“Betty, what do you want from me?”

“Just you. And just me, for you. But that’s asking too much. Good night.” She was the portrait of heartbreak, nose damp, her eyes reddened and glistening. Her posture crumpled, and Archie felt that cramping in his stomach that only happened when he knew he’d lost something he couldn’t get back.

“Bets… BETTY!” She wrested herself from him and practically shoved him out of her way as she fled to her tiny white car.

“Good night,” she emphasized, not so much as glancing back at him.

“Shoot,” he hissed. That went well. He went back to his abandoned notes and packed up to go home.

 

*

The next morning, Jughead tersely returned Ethel’s cheerful “Good morning!” as they filed into history class. She headed to her desk and tucked her backpack under her seat, glad to have reached her favorite time of the school day. She searched for conversation openers quickly as she watched him. Jughead popped a couple of Tic-Tacs and drummed two pencils on his text, no doubt practicing a solo. He’s so cute! Ethel gushed silently.

“Did you end up studying a lot last night?” she blurted, thwarting his attempts to ignore her.

“Huh?” He kept drumming absently, adding the palms of his hands to the hardcover for bass.

“Did you study a lot?” Ethel raised her voice half a notch, or so she thought. “Juggie! JUGGIE!” Several sets of eyes swung her way, and she blushed at the sound of low titters. An ugly tingle ran through her when Jughead jerked to attention and craned his neck to meet her expectant gaze.

That was annoyance in his dark blue eyes, plain and simple. She tried to recoup her attempt and redeem herself. “Um. Hi. Ehhh…”

“What’s up?” he offered blandly, but he turned away from her before she could think of a reply. Disappointment made her shoulders sag. This wasn’t going the way Ethel had hoped.

Archie sailed into the room three seconds after the last bell and scrambled into his seat at the front of the class. Miss Grundy paused in writing the subject of her lesson on the chalkboard and turned in time to see his lopsided grin. “You’re tardy, Andrews.”

“Better late than never,” he insisted innocently.

“Let that thought comfort you in detention after school today.” Archie winced as she turned her back on him again to finish her task. Reggie sniggered.

“You got served,” he jeered under his breath to his redheaded rival.

“Bite me,” he muttered back.

“Want to make it two days of detention?” Miss Grundy inquired, “and Mantle, care to join him? There’s plenty of room.”

 

“I’ll pass, thanks,” Reggie assured her cheerfully.

“Good. Then focus. Take out your homework. I’ll give you the chance to correct your work before you turn it in, and then we’re making flash cards. Don’t forget Friday’s test.” A chorus of groans greeted her and Miss Grundy gave an exaggerated shrug. “If you’ve been studying the material, this should be a walk in the park.”

Archie was distracted, barely paying attention to the answers she rattled off from her book. He toyed with the edge of his binder, peeling back the edge of the torn polyurethane. His mind drifted to Betty and her outburst in the library, rewinding over and over again to her driving off. His stomach knotted itself up with his newest quandary. How would he make it up to her? All night long he’d nursed panic at the thought of losing Betty completely. She’d avoided him all day, and there was an ugly gap where her smile and easygoing chatter were supposed to be. Archie felt deprived of simple privileges she gave him like random hugs or tugging her blonde ponytail in passing, Betty giving him mints or on-the-spot neck rubs. Her absence felt awkward and frustrating and left Archie with a bad taste in his mouth. It was his own fault for overestimating her patience, which bothered him.

He was hopeless in class. Minute details were too interesting, like the fluff balls pilling up on his sweater or the number of scratches in the wood finish of his battered desk. A random White Stripes song kept going through his head. Betty’s words echoed in his ears, underscored by Miss Grundy’s low drone…

“Archie. Yoo-hoo? Take one and pass the rest back,” she ordered impatiently.

“Huh? Oh. Shoot. Sorry.” He belatedly took the stack of papers from Moose. The enormous wide receiver sat craned around in his seat, shaking his head as Archie took the pile of worksheets from him.

“They tell me that the lights are on, but nobody’s home,” he marveled.

“Get bent.” Archie passed back the stack and hastily shoved his copy into his binder, watching the clock impatiently. Four more excruciating minutes. Shoot.

He heard the click of a small plastic lid being opened, and out of the corner of his eye, Ethel placed a Scope breath strip into her mouth. She kept furtively checking her watch, and Archie almost sighed.

Ethel Muggs. What a character. Archie pitied her. She wasn’t unlikable. She wasn’t a bad girl at all. She was just so… awkward. So goofy. She wasn’t doing herself any favors crushing on Jug. His best friend could be cool, and they’d be brothers for life, but he wasn’t interested in Ethel in “that way,” and he had a callous way of showing it. Jughead Jones had razor-sharp wit and was smart as a whip, but he was sometimes too blunt, too direct with his words.

Jughead was just Jughead. It couldn’t be helped. There was no point in trying to change him. Ethel didn’t seem to want him to change, to her credit, since many a girl had come along who had tried, but she was asking a lot for him to let her in.

Ethel was an amusing study in wasted effort as Archie’s eyes roved over her. She wore boy-cut jeans and white K-Swiss sneakers, topping it with a lime green, long-sleeved Aeropostale tee. The outfit was simple enough, but her makeup was a different story. Someone told her that green eye shadow was a good idea. Her current hairstyle of center-parting her hair and tying it up in two high pigtails made her resemble an anime character. It stood at odds with her long, angular face. She was still wearing cartoon-inspired jewelry, this time a Hello Kitty pendant. Little silver hearts dangled from her ears, and silly bands in several colors laddered down her left wrist.

She was so thin; her figure was almost boyish compared to her peers. Ethel had nice, straight posture and broad shoulders and narrow hips that would no doubt make her a fashion designer’s dream, but she didn’t have the curves to fill out a tight skirt or a bikini. As if she felt Archie’s eyes on her, Ethel suddenly glanced at him and then ducked her head, giving him a shy, confused smile. Archie gave her a cavalier nod and turned away out of politeness.

Jughead just wasn’t into being someone’s obsession. It just wasn’t his style. Archie, on the other hand, had no problem with it whatsoever, and Betty and Veronica both delivered.

Archie hated to see Ethel crash and burn, but there was no help for it. It sucked. She was such a nice girl.

The bell shocked him from his reverie, and his stomach leapt in relief. “Take those flash cards home and study them. Remember, they’re reminders, not indicative of everything that will be on the test. Study! Be thorough.” Miss Grundy waved them out of the room as she retrieved her commuter cup of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. They flooded out of the room, and in predictable fashion, Ethel galloped after Jughead into the hall, practically knocking three people over in her effort.

“I can’t watch,” Archie muttered.

“Can’t watch what?” Samantha inquired as she sidled up to him.

“Hey.”

“What’s going on?” She followed his line of vision to Jughead as he hurried away, and Sam saw Ethel stopping him. A knowing smirk twisted her lips. “Ah. Love birds.”

“She wouldn’t mind,” Archie agreed. “Ain’t gonna happen.”

“Nah. Poor baby.”

“He’s just not into her.”

“That’s not what I mean. She’s too good for him. What does she even see in Jug?”

“Pfft… are you kidding? Really? What’s wrong with Jug?” Archie asked defensively.

“I don’t know. Wait, I do. Insensitive, selfish, oblivious to her feelings, a total weenie when it comes to just being honest with her, anti-social… want me to go on?”

“That’s all part of his charm.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t care if he’s my boyfriend’s cousin. He needs to lighten up and grow up.”

“I know, but come on… it’s Ethel. Big Ethel. She’s such a goof.”

“She’s one of a kind,” Sam corrected him. “Is she every guy’s flavor?” They watched Ethel laughing at something that Jughead said that he didn’t intend to be funny, hearing her emphatic snort from where they stood. “Probably not. But she has her own pizzazz.”

“Pizzazz. Ah. That’s what you call what she has.” Archie pondered it and shrugged. “Explain that one to me, please.”

“Certainly, my good man. It’s that little quirky, awkward thing that she has. Ethel wears her heart on her sleeve. She isn’t a game player. In other words, she isn’t a Ronnie or a Midge or a Cheryl.”

“Come again?” How did she even manage to bring Ethel into the same ring as those three? “You’ve lost me.”

“With Ethel, what you see is what you get. No gloss. No smoke screens or wondering what the heck is on her mind. She’ll tell you, straight-up. Maybe even in more detail than you want. But you always know what kind of girl you’ll get with Ethel Lorraine Muggs.”

“Lorraine? That’s her middle name.”

“Yup. It’s old-fashioned. It’s cute.”

“Hm. Didn’t know that.”

“Now you know.” Samantha’s expression changed as she focused her attention fully on the scene unfolding before them. “Uh-oh.”

“What?”

“That’s a kicked puppy dog face she’s pulling.”

“Ooh.” Archie had been so distracted by Samantha’s banter – and let’s face it, her strawberry blonde good looks, since Sam was all curves, making him envy Bingo – that he’d forgotten his concern for his friend. He saw Jughead slamming his locker door, earning him stares from several sets of eyes. Ethel visibly winced, and so did Sam.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“GET A CLUE!”

“That really doesn’t sound good,” Archie amended.

“Look,” they heard Jughead say as they drifted up through the crowd, “I get it. You like me. But news flash, Bee: If I don’t encourage you following me, accosting me, and STALKING ME everywhere I go, offering me things, or anything else, it’s a fair bet I don’t want your number. I probably don’t want to call you. I DEFINITELY don’t want to ask you out. Just a theory.”

“But… I just thought…” Ethel’s smile faltered and trembled. Archie saw a small, folded slip of paper in her hand, and he knew it was her number. Pity gripped him, and he exhaled a sharp breath. Her shoulders dropped, her body noticeably deflated with his rejection, and with the humiliation that dripped from it.

“You didn’t think,” Jughead muttered. “Just… back off. Bye, Ethel.”

“Okay,” she expelled shakily. Ethel turned on her heel and began to hurry off, before she realized she was going in the wrong direction. She almost plowed into Jughead on the way away from him, head bent down nearly to her chest, the stark picture of a girl who wanted to disappear.

“Burned,” Sam whispered.

“Geez,” Archie agreed. “Not cool.”

“But honest. He gets points for being honest. And a dick.” Archie wished she wasn’t telling the truth, but she’d called it right on the nose.

Jughead noticed him standing by and his expression grew contrite. “Hey, man. You just saw that, right? She tried to give me her number.”

“Yeah. Nice job, bro.” Jughead made a face of disgust and pointed after her.

“She didn’t get it! Now she does, or she’d better! I don’t like Big Ethel! Not that way,” Jughead sputtered. “She was driving me nuts!”

“She looked hurt,” Archie told him carefully. “That would’ve hurt my feelings.”

“Who are you, Doctor Phil? And that wasn’t you. She’s a stalker. You don’t stalk, and you’re not desperate.”

“You think she’s desperate?” Archie inwardly recoiled. “She’s just… eager.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Reggie interjected as he joined them. “Don’t leave her hangin’, man. Big Ethel will treat you right!”

“Bite me.”

Samantha hovered by Archie’s elbow. “Arch… go after her. She went that way.”

“Why me?” he said, clearly baffled.

“Just go. You’ve got longer legs.” She turned to Jughead. “Not cool.”

“She doesn’t get it.”

“That’s not the point. Just remember, Juggie: Karma sucks. Mark my words.”

 

*

 

Archie found himself walking at a fast clip down the hall, following Ethel down her likely path. He was running late for lunch, but Sam was right. He shouldn’t have witnessed Ethel’s dressing down by his best friend, but Ethel picked a lousy place to offer him her number. “Seen Ethel?” he inquired of a couple of sophomores chatting by the water fountain. They shrugged and shook their heads, then ogled him as he walked off.

“Did you notice Ethel coming this way?” he asked Dilton as he made his way out of the library.

“I think she went that way,” he nodded over his shoulder.

“Left,” Ginger added.

“Thanks!”

 

Ethel inevitably gave herself away. Archie heard low, muffled sounds coming from behind a closed, nondescript gray door. He cautiously touched it, then leaned in to listen for a moment.

Sobbing. That’s what he was hearing. Archie cringed. Ouch.

“Sheesh,” he muttered under his breath. “Bee? You in there?”

“Go away,” she sniffled.

“You all right?”

“What do you think?”

“I’ll take that as a no. Wanna come out of there and talk to me?”

“No. Just leave me alone.”

“You’re in a broom closet.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re gonna be late for class.”

“So are you. You’re always late.”

She had him there. “I have lunch next,” he pointed out.

“Leave me alone, Arch.”

“Forget this,” he decided. Archie peered around the hall. The crowd was thinning, and no one was paying attention to him, anyway. He jerked open the door before she could protest, and Archie’s first glance told him everything he needed to know.

Her green shadow was completely ruined, and her cheeks were a ruddy, blotchy mess, made worse by her parchment-fair skin. “Close the door!” she yelped indignantly.

“Fine.” Archie stepped into the closet and closed it behind him with a low click. He didn’t bother to overthink it. He felt silly standing in there, and he wasn’t even certain what good it would do.

“I’m so embarrassed. He hates me.”

“He doesn’t ha-“

“Don’t lie,” she said, stopping his entreaty. “Don’t sugarcoat it. There’s no way to make what happened back there sound any better, Archie. I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you’re not!” Archie said noncommittally. “Maybe… maybe you just picked the wrong moment.”

“Wrong moment? When’s the right time, then?” she railed. She dashed tears from her eyes, and Archie reached into his backpack, trying to find her something to wipe her face with. He ended up with a half-crumpled fast food napkin, which she took gratefully. “Thanks.”

“There might not be a right time. I get that you’re into him, but Ethel… you ever think Jug might think you’re laying it on a little thick?”

“What?” she breathed. Confusion filled her almond-shaped gray eyes. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just… you might need to give Jug a little space. Just a bit.” He held up his finger and thumb to specify his intent a little more. “Jughead doesn’t always like a big fuss made over him. He’s kind of ‘hands off,’ y’know?”

“I… I guess.” She dabbed at her eyes. “Why did you even come in here?”

“Well… I was just wondering if you were okay.” Sam did some of that “wondering” for him, granted, but watching Jughead blow up at her like that made him uncomfortable.

“I just wanna die. I wish I could just disappear.”

“You’ll have to come out of the closet at some point.”

“I almost wish I were in the closet instead. If I didn’t like boys, I might not have this problem,” she joked half-heartedly. Archie smirked.

“Heh. Eh. Yeah. Well, not really.”

“Girls aren’t as complicated.”

“Baloney. Yeah, you are!”

 

“Not to me. I don’t get guys.”

“No. You just don’t get Jug.”

“But I want to!” she whined. “I like him so much, Archie! I’ve had a crush on him since second grade. Well, maybe fifth, I guess, when he grew taller than me. He’s cute.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Archie confessed. “You think so?”

“Definitely.” Ethel blew her nose loudly. Archie winced.

“Ew.”

“Sorry. I’m keeping this.”

“I insist on it.”

“I look like crap, don’t I?”

“Well… no. You just… have something…” Archie motioned with his finger around his own eyes.

“Got another napkin?” she asked meekly.

“Sure. I should, anyway,” he offered as he dug around in his pack again. “Here.” He tucked a small wad of them into her hand. “Bee, your hand feels like ice.”

“I get panic attacks.”

“Sheesh. Wow.”

“They suck. Thanks, Archie. I’m getting out of here. Don’t miss your lunch.”

“You’re late, now.”

“I’ll tell the teacher I had cramps.”

“TMI.”

“Sorry. Bye, Arch.”

“Bye, Ethel.” He watched her emerge from the closet and flee down the hall. It was only then that he noticed that she smelled like Curve perfume. One more detail that Jughead wouldn’t notice, clearly.


	3. Kid Gloves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethel, with help from her obsession’s bestie, takes a more delicate approach, with mixed results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going wherever this story tells me to take it, in the hopes that I don’t end up blocked, which is the case for every story that I haven’t completed, lately.

 

Ethel watched, rapt, as Jughead climbed into his messy compact car, a beat-up little blue Dodge held together by rust that had seen better days. It was ingrained, a habit that wouldn’t die easily despite his outburst. Ethel couldn’t look him in the eye, but she couldn’t stop watching him once his eyes were averted. It was like being in third grade all over again…

As if he sensed someone watching him, he glanced her way, but Ethel ducked down behind her wheel, cheeks burning. No. Not again.

“Darn it, Ethel,” she scolded herself. “Are we really going to play this game again?”

“Do you always talk to yourself in your car?”

“GAH!” Ethel nearly jumped out of her skin at the proximity of the voice, right by her elbow. Archie was peering in through her window, smirking, and she instinctively reached up to smack him, but he ducked out of the way. “Don’t DO that!”

“My bad. You left this in class.” He handed her a small blue Pilot pen, and she frowned as she began to fish through her purse. “Didn’t know you were missing it, did you?”

“No. Thanks. These aren’t cheap. They’re good pens,” she remarked.

“If you’re picky about that kind of thing,” he shrugged.

“Dilton introduced me to them. They’re really smooth, and they feel good in your grip.”

“Right. Smooth grip. I’ll keep that in mind,” he lied. “You’re spying on him again.”

“What? No. I’m not spying,” she insisted, taken aback by his change of topic. “Did you just come over to give me back my pen? You probably have somewhere to be, Arch. Don’t let me keep you-“

“Ethel,” Archie tutted knowingly. “You were spying.”

“I was just looking for my keys.”

“Your engine’s already running.”

“I had to adjust my mirrors.”

“They look fine.”

“Don’t you have to meet Ronnie?” Her tone was slightly accusing.

“Not at the moment.”

“That could change any minute,” she pointed out coyly.

“This isn’t about me and Ronnie.”

“Thanks for bringing me back my pen,” she deadpanned. “Gotta jet. Bye, Arch.” Ethel was frustrated by her loss of momentum and the pity in his blue eyes. His next words stopped her reach for the gearshift.

“Bee, wait.” There it was. That hated nickname. Bee. Short for “Big Ethel.” There was nothing worse in Ethel’s universe than being hit in the face again with that moniker, proof positive that she was being pigeonholed.

“Don’t. I hate that.”

“Hate what?”

“Don’t call me Bee. I hate it. I’m Ethel,” she informed him crisply.

“We’ve always called you that,” he said, clearly puzzled.

“Then you’ve always had it wrong,” she pointed out. “It’s not cool.”

“Wow. Sorry.” His brows twitched. “I didn’t know it was that big a deal.”

“You wouldn’t want everyone calling you Big Red all the time.”

“They used to. Back in summer camp. It didn’t suck as much as Carrot-Top,” he shrugged. “I don’t let it bother me.”

“Well… it does bother me. And you’re right. Carrot-Top does kinda suck,” she allowed sagely.

“Were you just going to sit here in your car watching him until he leaves?”

“It’s not a crime.”

“You weren’t going to follow him, were you?”

“No,” she blurted indignantly. Yes, her inner voice sassed. “Not past the exit.”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

“It’s none of your concern, though, is it?”

“Remember how we talked about giving him a little space?”

“I am! I’m all the way over here!”

“You’re spying on him. Not quite the same as stalking him, but it’s still in the same ball park.”

“Okay. You can think that if you want.”

“You don’t think it’s a little weird?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Fine. I’ll take off.” He backed away from her car and gave her a cavalier wave. Ethel returned his smile with one that was completely insincere before she drove off. Archie sighed, shaking his head. He began to head in the direction of Jughead’s little beater when a flash of blonde caught his eye.

Betty was leaning against the edge of a small brown Jeep’s passenger window, laughing at something the driver said. Her posture was carefree and flirtatious, piquing his curiosity. He saw her nodding, making her ponytail bob at her nape, and she reached inside the car to take something; it looked like a folded slip of paper. She opened it, peered down and smiled again. He read Betty’s lips briefly, making out Sure. I’ll call you. Tonight.

None of Betty’s girlfriends drove a Jeep.

Archie kept walking toward Jug, but his attention was riveted on his girlfriend – he refused to admit she was an ex-girlfriend, yet – and whoever was entertaining her at the moment. She leaned away from the window and waved, and sure enough, Archie heard a deep voice calling her name before the car pulled out of the space. Adam Chisholm guided his car toward the exit, nodding briefly at Archie on his way out. Archie gave him a limp, polite wave, but he watched him pull away in a red haze.

What was she doing talking to him?

“Yo, Arch!” Jug finally noticed him and waved him down impatiently. “What’s goin’ on? What’re you doing, just hanging out? School’s out. Let’s bail.”

“Yeah. Figured I’d swing by before you took off. Hey, man, was that Betty talking with Adam?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Jughead shrugged. “She likes him. He really digs her.”

“She likes him? When did this happen?”

“Dunno. Probably right about the time she stopped returning your calls. Just a guess.” Jug tsked. “Don’t obsess over it, bro. Give Bets a break.”

“Give her a break?” Archie’s mouth gaped. “Dude! Not cool! You’re on her side?”

“No. I’m not taking sides. This is all you, man. You and Betty weren’t serious. She can date who she wants. You can date who you want, so what’s the problem?”

“What’s the problem? What does she see in him?” Archie demanded hotly. He knew it wasn’t fair, and there was nothing wrong with Adam, but in the space of three seconds, his subconscious had the affable, decent-looking junior lumped into the same category as Charles Manson.

“Eh. She sees something. He’s always right by her elbow. Wanna hit Pop’s?”

“I guess. I dunno. Maybe not.” Archie was fuming, unsure of whether he would make good company.

“You’ve gotta come, Arch. Don’t leave me hanging.”

“Ah… fine.” Archie had caught the school bus, and Jughead would save him the crowded, noisy ride home. His jalopy was in the shop, and his dad wasn’t happy with the quote the mechanic gave him to fix the transmission.

“You’re buying,” Jughead announced cheerfully as Archie buckled his seatbelt.

 

*

The next day, Ethel spent the day mired in frustration and confusion. She wanted to talk to Jughead, and somehow smooth things over and take back her previous attempt to give him her number. Somehow the idea hadn’t lacked as much finesse when it came to her before… Ethel still burned with humiliation. What was she doing wrong? Why didn’t Jughead like her?

What Archie said rankled. If she liked Jughead, how would “giving him space” help? How would that make him more interested in her? It made no sense; Ethel couldn’t wrap her head around it. Her mother had lectured her a long time ago that it was important to let a boy feel like he was the one doing the chasing, but that never seemed very effective to Ethel.

This time, though, that advice came from a boy. That put a different spin on things. Maybe Archie had a point. Maybe she needed to think less how she usually thought, and think more like a guy.

That still presented a problem. Archie was Jughead’s best friend. She couldn’t just pump him for information, could she? That would be in bad form.

 

*

“Wait… what?”

“You can help me, can’t you?” Ethel blurted again.

“Help you do what again?” Archie’s sandy red brows drew together.

“Help me to not pour it on as thick with Juggie.”

“That’s not something you should need help with, per se,” Archie told her gently. Ethel looked like a kicked puppy again, and Archie mentally sighed. Here we go, again…

“I do! I swear. Arch, it’s hard for me. I like him. I’ve ALWAYS liked him. Whenever I try to get him to notice me, it never goes like I want it to.”

“What are you doing to get him to notice you?” Besides stalking him, he wanted to add.

“I don’t know. I guess… little things. I try to keep things he might need in my purse. Mints. Extra pencils. Gum. Loose change.”

“Wow…” Archie felt an unexpected wave of sympathy wash over him at that statement.

“I wear his favorite colors. I have a lot of his favorite songs on my iPod. I go to all of your shows, but you know that,” she pointed out.

“Right in the front row,” Archie acknowledged. And she was. Ethel was actually a great fan, always supporting them whenever the Archies had a show. “Why do you keep his music on your iPod?”

“I don’t know. Just on the off chance he might want to listen to it. I know it sounds dumb,” she hedged.

“No. Not dumb, just… different. I wouldn’t have thought to do that if I liked a girl.”

“That’s because they all like YOU.” Archie flushed for a moment but grinned.

“Nah…”

“Um. Yeah. They do,” she argued.

“What else have you been doing?”

“I help him with little things if he lets me. I returned his library books, once. I brought him his homework when he was sick back when we were kids. And I bake him things. That helps.”

Archie wanted to tell her, No. That just makes him take even bigger advantage of you. That’s desperate. But he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“Maybe it isn’t helping if he still isn’t biting,” Archie told her gently. He hung out at the bus stop, waiting for number five. His car wasn’t out of the shop until Saturday, and Jughead had detention for sneaking a sandwich into history class. Ethel had caught up to him and was keeping him company, and in his mind, pressing him for intel.

Ethel looked… well, she looked like Ethel. Her hair was back in the two little pigtails, and she had on another little character tee, this time Elmo from Sesame Street, made from snug red cotton/Lycra knit. Her accessories stood out again; she had on a “Live, Love, Laugh” pendant and several little bangles laddered up her wrist. The belt that she wore with her black skinny jeans had a giant silver daisy-shaped buckle. Her red Converse low-tops matched the shirt; that impressed him.

The only thing that was killing him was the makeup. It wasn’t so much that Ethel didn’t need it, but just… not that much of it. She had decent skin, even though it was fair to the point of being “pale.”

“Do you always wear so much eye makeup? Do you think you really need it?” Ethel huffed in frustration and laughed.

“I need all the help I can get!”

“No. Not really. You don’t need that much eye shadow.”

“I like a little color,” she reasoned, but she looked surprised. “Um… do you think Juggie would like me better without it?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like I bring that kind of thing up with him in everyday conversation. ‘Hey, man, that Knicks game was awesome, but let’s go to the Merle Norman store and learn how to do a smoky eye.’” Ethel giggled and punched his arm.

“But do you really think he might like me better that way?”

“I have no clue. But give it a try.” Frankly, Archie wanted to tell her that he didn’t think Jughead noticed things like makeup in the first place, but if she wanted to make the effort – by making LESS of an effort – he wouldn’t stand in her way.

“I might.” The bus pulled up, and Archie moved in line, but Ethel stopped him. “Hey. Do you want a ride home?”

“Did you drive?”

“Well, duh. I could have given you a ride home yesterday, if you’d asked.” Instead, he’d caught her stalking. The memory gave her a rash of prickles; she was still embarrassed. “Come with me.”

“You don’t have to go to the trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” she said, brightening. “I’m not in a hurry to be anywhere!”

“Don’t worry about it-“

“Oh, don’t be silly! C’mon! Let’s go!” She looped her arm through his and tugged him toward the parking lot. Archie was surprised and amused.

“Uh, okay…”

“My car’s right over here. It’s not too much of a mess.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Ethel unlocked his side first; Archie climbed inside and automatically unlocked hers, and then took inventory of the interior.

Wow.

Everything was Hello Kitty. The dashboard cover, seat covers, steering wheel cover, a small pendant hanging from the rearview mirror, the floor mats, even the air freshener sitting just over the air vent. “Whoa,” he muttered.

“It’s not too messy, is it?”

“Nope. Uh-uh.” Archie felt like he was standing in the middle of his little three-year-old niece’s bedroom. Everything was frighteningly pink.

“You live on Elm Street, right?”

“Yeah. Not too far from Ju-“ He stopped himself.

“I know. You’re right down the road from him.” Archie wanted to kick himself. Of course she knew where Jughead lived… sheesh. At least he didn’t have to try to keep it a big secret.

“Just let me know where to turn when I get there.”

“Sure.”

“Do you need to stop anywhere?”

“Nope.” Veronica went to the mall and didn’t want him to meet her there, which was fine, since he was broke. Archie spent the last of his allowance at Pop’s the day before, on Jughead, no less. “Home’s fine.”

“Do you have a lot of homework?” She eyed the math book in his lap.

“Nah. I did most of it in study hall.”

“Lucky. I have trig, history, and French tonight.”

“Yuck.” Archie was glad he took Spanish instead, and second year algebra was kicking his butt. Ethel was in the honor society with Dilton, Reggie and Betty and her grades were in the top tenth percentile of their class. She might have been clueless about guys, but she was an excellent student.

“I actually like French. And I have the choice of taking calculus and getting it out of the way before college, or just taking senior math review next year for the SAT’s.”

“That must be nice.” Archie was jealous. He hated math, and math hated him.

“I’m taking winter track next month. I didn’t have time for cross country this season.” Archie didn’t want to say anything. Ethel was also one of the fastest girls in school, something that kids had teased her mercilessly about whenever she chased Jug on the playground in middle school.

Ethel was a careful driver, using her signals and never trying to run through the stoplights. “You can turn on the radio if you want,” she offered.

“You don’t have a CD player?”

“Can’t afford it. It’s no big deal. I don’t spend a lot of time in my car. It just gets me where I need to go.” Archie chuckled.

“My car’s a junker, but I practically live in it. And it LOOKS like I live in it. I can’t wait til I get it back. You should get a stereo.”

“It’s on my wish list.” Archie fiddled with the tuning knobs until he found a station that wasn’t too staticky. He turned up the volume slightly on a Blink-182 song and drummed his fingers in his knee.

“You didn’t have to give me a ride, Ethel. Thanks.”

“I wanted to. And you’re welcome.” Ethel mulled her next words carefully. “Arch? You said I need to stop trying so hard… what’s the best way to do that?”

“Whoa. Um…how can I put this? Don’t keep throwing yourself out there. You know how you always want to help him out by being right there, pretty much over his shoulder or at his elbow?”

“Am I?” Ethel was aghast. She never truly realized it.

“Make him look for you. And Ethel?”

“Yeah?”

“Just… don’t take it personally if it doesn’t work out. Jug’s just Jug. He’s not gonna change any time soon.”

“I don’t want him to change… I just want him to like me.” Ethel’s eyes burned and she sniffled, and Archie realized he’d pricked a sore spot.

“Bee…”

“Don’t call me that, please.” He’d forgotten again. Archie bit his tongue.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“My house is the green one on the right,” he pointed out, but Archie felt awful. He might as well have said “You’re doing it all wrong. He’ll never like you. Oh goodie, here’s my stop.”

“Okay.” She pulled up front, mindfully not blocking his father’s car in. Ethel dried her eyes and had a hard time meeting his.

“Ethel… I’m sorry if I sounded like a jerk. I just… I don’t want you to get your feelings hurt again.”

“I know. It’s just stupid. I don’t know. I like him, Archie. I’ve always liked him. I don’t know how to stop liking Jughead.”

Maybe you should learn. Archie left the words unspoken. “Thanks again for the ride. That was nice. You’re a real help.”

“You’re welcome. I wish Juggie thought so.”

“Maybe he should,” he agreed for her sake. Archie reached over, briefly, and squeezed her hand where it sat on the wheel. Ethel’s cheeks turned pink at his touch, and she cleared her throat, managing a little smile.

Her hand was cool and soft. Archie pulled away quickly and worked his way out of the car, closing the door briskly. “Later!”

“Bye,” she told him, waving awkwardly as she pulled out of the driveway. He waved after her, not walking into his house until she was down the street.

Okay. That was weird.


	4. Frozen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethel's hopes are dashed again. She doesn't realize she has a future champion.

Ethel snuck looks at Jughead from the other side of the gym where he lazed on the bleachers, listening to his iPod Touch and munching on a bag of Corn Nuts. She barely paid attention to Miss Grundy’s droning spiel about eliminations for cheerleading tryouts.

Ethel knew it was a desperate pitch for attention, but it was her constant, longstanding habit to show up wherever Jughead did, and she overheard Archie mentioning football tryouts. Jughead wasn’t making any effort to try out for the team, but he came along to give his best friend moral support, as well as meet him for a trip to Pop’s after practice. Periodically, she noticed Jughead rapping out the beat of his music with his drumsticks, tapping on his backpack and hardcover textbooks. He looked silly but cute. She caught him peering up at her, feeling her stare, and Ethel quickly looked away. His expression was blank, and Ethel winced. That didn’t go well…

Archie listened to Coach Kleats as he passed around printed tryout schedules, feeling keyed up and excited. Archie had his eye on the quarterback spot, but he’d be happy if he even made first string. His biggest rivals for that spot were Chuck and Reggie; he’d be fine if Chuck got it, because he deserved it. But the thought of Reggie making quarterback left a bad taste in his mouth. There’d be no end to hearing from Mantle the Mouth for the whole season if he made it.

Archie snickered to himself as he watched Jug chill on the bleachers. He refused to try out, no matter how much Archie nagged him to make an effort. Jug cheerfully assured him that he’d have his back during basketball season, and if Archie wanted to get crushed like a bug out on the field that fall, he was welcome to it. Jug seemed lazy, but he was an excellent point guard.

Archie glanced over at the cheerleading hopefuls and sighed. There was Ethel, right on time, pretending not to watch Jug. It pained him, but he knew it was a hard habit for her to break. Veronica, Cheryl, Midge, Betty and Nancy were all sitting up front on the gym floor, returning from their sophomore year on the JV squad. All of them already had pom-poms and were dressed in gym shorts and sneakers. Cheryl dug in her pocket and checked her voice mail on her iPhone until Miss Grundy motioned for her to either put it away or hand it over.

Ethel’s stomach was full of butterflies. She didn’t really know what she was doing there, but she didn’t want to loiter in the bleachers without a valid reason to be there, did she? And on some level, she wanted to climb out of her safe little box. Cheerleading represented a big step for Ethel, an opportunity to grab the brass ring.

The Blue and Gold cheering squad were often the pretty girls, the ones who were on every page of the yearbook. They always ended up in the superlatives for Best Smile, Most Outgoing, Most Attractive. They were overachievers. They were worthy of attention. They never stayed home on Saturday nights watching the phone. They never had a bad hair day. Everyone wanted to sit at their lunch table.

They were never lonely.

The sensible side of her knew that Jughead wouldn’t necessarily be more interested in her if she became a cheerleader. But… somehow… she just wanted to be worthy of his attention. If she could be less of a nerd, he’d see her differently. Being herself didn’t seem to be helping her case, so what if she tried to be someone else? It was her Plan B.

Archie’s words rang in her ears. She needed to give him some space. But she’d worn such a groove in the floor at school, frequenting classrooms and hallways where she knew he’d show up. But she found herself shuttering and editing herself, opening her mouth and closing it whenever she was tempted to fill his ear. It was so hard.

Ethel took one of the cheer sheets that was being passed around and studied it. All of the cheers were familiar, but the words swam before her eyes, even though she knew she would need to be diligent about memorizing them. Her gray eyes scanned the gym. She recognized a few girls from her gym class and felt some sympathy for a group of freshman girls who looked as nervous as she felt.

She just hoped she wasn’t awkward.

*

Archie was having a hard time focusing on Coach Kleats’ words.

“… tryout practice lasts from three o’clock to four-thirty. You can catch the late bus if you need it. Regular practice will be held here; scrimmages will be held out at Riverdale Pop Warner field. I want everyone here prepared to work out. Bring cleats with you to every practice; no running shoes allowed out on that field, boys. I don’t want slips and falls. First round of callbacks will be posted on that wall and in the school’s main office by Monday. By Friday, you’ll find out if you made it.”

“What’re you staring at?” Chuck muttered, elbowing his distracted friend.

“Nothing.”

“I see how it is. You’re keeping an eye on your girl. Ron’s looking good over there in those shorts…”

“Don’t stare,” Archie growled, but he didn’t want to admit that the shorts in question had caught his attention, too. Archie was too aware of her long, tapered legs and the effect they had on him. Then Chuck’s snicker caught his attention. He followed the direction of his finger.

“Is that Ethel? She’s trying out for cheering?”

“Yup.” Archie felt a flush creep up his neck. “She’s brave.”

“She’s out of her mind! Look at all those other girls! I’m not dissing homegirl,” he insisted, “but she needs a reality check. Ethel was in my gym class freshman year. Girl can’t even do a cartwheel.”

“Maybe she’s been working on it since then.” Archie’s voice sounded less than hopeful. He saw Ethel mouthing the words to the cheers and pantomiming the choreography halfheartedly, and he felt a fresh round of embarrassment for her.

The next hour was a challenge for Ethel. She huddled toward the end of the bleachers while Miss Grundy divided the girls up into practice groups. The girls returning from the year before were captains of each team, and Ethel was relieved when Betty scanned the crowd and beckoned to Ethel. “Ethel, you’re on my team.” Even better yet, she picked her first.

“I was going to have her on mine,” Nancy argued good-naturedly. Ethel grinned. Nancy winked. “Be that way, girl. Sam, you’re on my team.”

“Maria,” Cheryl called out. The petite Latina was quick to join her, giving her a high-five. The freshman girls were divided and led by the returning JV squad members, and the selections went pretty fast. Ethel’s palms sweated.

I’m really doing this. I’m going out for cheering. I hope I make it. What happens if I don’t make it? Then, she realized, What happens if I DO?

She gave herself a break, just for a moment, to imagine herself in the blue and gold sweater and skirt. How would it feel to have a big crowd of people hearing her cheer? Would she be more popular? Would she fit in with the other girls? Would she honestly be one of them, for a change? Miss Grundy’s whistle destroyed her reverie.

“Okay. Join your teams on the mats. I want to see some jumps, splits and round-offs.”

“Shit,” Ethel hissed under her breath.

So much for her dream…

*

Archie watched Ethel visibly deflate as the other girls began to show off. Veronica and Cheryl were trying to outdo each other with round-offs, seeing which of them did better sticking the landing. Nancy was flexible and dropped down into a one-hundred eighty-degree split, making him wonder if it was painful.

“That’s my girl!” Chuck crowed.

“Suit up!” his father, Floyd, called out above the growing clamor. “We’re going out to run some circuits. Get plenty of water and head out to the field.”

“He’s been riding me all week,” Chuck admitted to Archie.

“What do you expect? You’re the coach’s kid.” Archie was actually jealous. Chuck had lettered in three sports since their freshman year, all on his own effort, and his father never cut him any slack. He ran just as many suicides, took just as many laps and tackles, and made just as many lay-ups and rebounds as anyone else. Archie’s efforts were pretty independent; his own father was no athlete. He spent less time helping him work out and more cheering him on from the sidelines.

Ronnie occasionally smiled over at him, but Betty was doing her level best to ignore him. She did wave briefly to Adam, though, which just ticked him off. Again, what did she see in him? Adam followed the rest of the prospective team to the locker rooms, but he kept looking back toward the other side of the gym. Before he could stop himself, Archie “accidentally” stumbled against the sandy-haired junior to make him trip.

“Sorry, man.”

“Wanna watch it?” Adam suggested.

“Sorry, bro,” Archie repeated, but his eyes were hard. Adam shrugged.

“What’s your deal?” He gave Archie his back and continued to his locker.

“What crawled up your ass, Carrot-Top?” Reggie smirked.

“Why’ve you gotta be interested in my ass?” Archie shot back.

“Because its mouth keeps moving. Sorry, dude; that’s your face. My bad.” His face was apologetic. Archie gave him a shove. “Someone’s got PMS…”

“Get bent.”

*

Ethel went through the motions of learning the choreography, but the moves seemed to hate her. Her arms and feet went in all the wrong directions, and she flubbed the words with every other line. She kept her voice low in an attempt to cover her uncertainty. Miss Grundy watched her from the sidelines and kept shaking her head, scribbling notes on her clipboard.

The next two days were like that. Ethel felt partly comfortable with two of the cheers, but it was still awkward when she practiced with the other girls. She occasionally heard whispers and saw them pointing at her, and she tried valiantly to ignore it and soldier through. She kept smiling and just tried to make the most of it. One small consolation: She got to watch the boys head out to the field every day in their practice gear, and still came along to watch and wait for Archie.

As the players emerged from the locker room, Archie did his sweep of the gymnasium and looked for this favorite faces. Betty glanced up at him for a moment, and he gave her a winning smile. Hers was tepid and paired with a tiny shake of her head before she went back to talking with Nancy.

Wow. She was still mad at him. That was a record. Archie felt a pang of remorse, and the hollow little ache left from her continued avoidance gnawed at him. Veronica caught his eye, and her look was smug and assured. She profiled for him, then turned her back.

Hm. Okay. What was that all about? He headed toward the breezeway, but a high-pitched shout stopped him.

“Hey, Arch!” He looked over his shoulder and caught Ethel waving to him earnestly. She looked glad to see him, which… puzzled him. But her smile was sunny and relatively sincere, and he returned her wave.

At least someone appreciated him.

His practice was brutal. They ran through the obstacle course, hutting and tackling, doing grapevines along the sidelines until Archie’s legs ached. The boys chugged water and Gatorade and fanned themselves with the hems of their jerseys, which were sticking to them with sweat.

Jughead hung out on the bench, looking bored. They planned to practice at Jug’s house when they got out; Archie had already finished his Spanish homework during his last period, and he was looking forward to rehearsing their new song. Absently he rubbed his finger and thumb together, feeling the blisters from the strings.

Archie peered back at Jug. What was it that Ethel saw in him? Jughead could be cool, sometimes, as a friend. They’d been tight since forever, sure, but why would a girl like Ethel be into a guy like that? He was standoffish, sometimes almost to the point of being rude. He was a loner, even. They had nothing in common at all; both of them were book smart, granted, but Ethel was the one on the honor roll, where Jughead only did enough work to get by, with grades just good enough for his mom to still let him play in the band or on the court. Ethel was always relatively polite and neat. Jughead could burp the alphabet. Ethel was a hobbyist and loved to cook. Jughead… liked to lie around and eat. Well, there you had it. Archie supposed that was a connection of a sort.

If Archie could name traits that a girl would have to turn Jug on, she would definitely have to like music. She would have to be a bit of a nerd and be into gaming and Star Trek. She’d have to be independent, Archie decided, and not mind it if Jughead didn’t call her everyday. She’d have to be a dog person; Hot Dog was friendly but picky. She couldn’t be a glamour puss. Jughead once confessed that Betty was one of the only girls he could ever halfway see himself dating, but that they were better off as friends; she was too much like the sister he never had. Archie took that time to remind him that he had Jelly Bean. He got a shrug in response.

Archie puzzled over it while Coach went over a few plays. What kind of guy was Ethel’s type? Did she even have a type? Tall? Brainy? AB positive? For the life of him, Archie had never seen Ethel walking around with a boyfriend. Once in a great while, she would ask someone to dance when they had mixers, but not all of her attempts bore fruit. Most nights she stayed out on the floor for the fast songs with her friends, but once it slowed down, she warmed the bleachers. Archie admitted to himself that it had to suck.

The whistle blasted, and they were back on the field. Archie got back to business, and for the next half hour, he ran his ass off.

Ethel wasn’t his problem. He wondered why he was even pondering her situation at all.

*

During the day, Ethel had a hard time not searching for Jughead. Restraining herself from stopping him in the hallway was physically painful. It was so ingrained to meander by his locker. At lunch, she miserably toyed with her pretzels and watched him with hooded eyes.

“What’s up? Today’s the big day!” Betty chirped as she joined her at their table. Nancy and Midge decided to join them, and Ethel felt relieved not to be on the fringes for a change. “Are you all ready?”

“No,” Ethel admitted.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know if I should even do this.”

“Why? You’ve practiced,” Betty assured her.

“I suck.”

“You don’t suck! Just get out there,” Betty insisted. “Give it your best shot. Who knows? You might make it. If not, there’s still next year. And there’s boosters and drill team.”

“I did boosters for two years in a row. I’m tired of it, already. And drill team has to practice with the band. It’s brutal.” Ethel had watched them rehearse on the field before, doing the marching formations, and she didn’t envy them. Their practices were long and grueling, and they often grew grumpy with each other from trying to all stay in step. No, thank you, she told herself. She didn’t want to run the risk of colliding with the drum line or getting hit by a stray baton. “I might just run cross country again. And I’m playing basketball in November.”

“Nice,” Nancy said approvingly. “We’ll kick butt this year.”

“You can cheer with us until then,” Midge encouraged. “Try out. Don’t be scared!”

“I can’t do flips.”

“There’s always the bottom row of the pyramid,” Betty reminded her with a shrug. Ethel shrugged back. Her stomach was tied in knots.

Her friends kept her distracted enough that she stopped focusing on Jughead until the seventh period bell rang.

*

Ethel felt self-conscious and picked at a chipped fingernail from her perch on the third row of bleachers. She was dressed and ready to go in her knee-length sweat capris and Reeboks, and she wore a slightly roomy tee that said “Talk Nerdy to Me” that she hoped wouldn’t draw too much attention to her flat chest. She had her hair pulled back into a high, short ponytail and she at least felt ready for action.

The other girls took greater pains with their appearance, something that made her feel doubtful about her own efforts. Ethel heard Archie’s advice in the back of her mind as she got ready that morning, and she decided to skip the eye shadow. Her face felt slightly naked without it, but it saved her a few minutes in getting ready for the day. She settled for some light pink lip gloss instead, shrugged at her reflection and called it good. Cheryl and Veronica had made a big deal about their hair, blowing it out and wearing little barrettes and headbands. Nancy was more practical and had cornrowed hers into snug, neat braids. Samantha and Betty had both opted for ponytails. Ethel liked the strawberry blonde girl well enough; she knew she was dating Bingo, Jughead’s cousin from Midvale. Ethel wished she could have the same luck with the branch of the Jones family that she was interested in…

“I’m going to call three of you up at a time. We’re going to run through two cheers, and then I want to see you do the choreography, which is roughly a minute and a half long. Good luck.” Miss Grundy lined up the girls in three rows and led them to the white line at center court. She sat back down at the rectangular table under the basket with Miss Haggly and started calling numbers.

“Seventy-two, three and fifteen.” Each girl adjusted her paper number pinned to her shirt and stood at attention, feet together and hands on their hips. Ethel watched and listened to them with a sinking heart. They were great. She sucked. All she wanted to do was run and hide.

They ran through the cheers with ease, voices strong and sharp. They stood at attention again until Miss Grundy cued the music, nodding to Miss Haggly to turn on the boom box. “Go!” she barked. The first bars of “Carry Out” by Justin Timberlake and Timbaland blasted from the speakers, and Ethel silently counted the first few beats til the beginning of the routine. The girls’ timing was perfect, nailing the first moves crisply and in clean sync. Ethel heard a few in the crowd humming the words to the song under their breath. Her stomach knotted as they finished the number. “Thank you. Very nice,” Miss Grundy announced. They left the court and looked relieved to be finished.

“Two, sixteen and four.”

“Thirty, seven and twelve.”

“Twenty-five. Thirty-six. Nine.”

Each group of three had their turn, making Ethel doubt her own right to even participate. Her hopes sank further the longer she sat on the hard bench; a mean voice inside her reminded her that she was used to being stuck in the bleachers, so why should this be any different? She fiddled with the paper number pinned to her tee. If she took it off and eased her way out before they called h-

"Fifty-eight. Forty. Eight."

Shit. The single digit seemed to mock her. Too late. Time to die of embarrassment. Still... it was exciting. One the one hand, she could flub it completely and guarantee herself a whisper fest in the cafeteria on Monday. On the other... well, what if? How awesome would it be if she actually got it?

She was allowed to dream. Riding on the cheerleader bus to games. Yearbook pictures in her uniform, pom-poms raised high. Marching in parades. Homecoming dances, with the chance to be nominated for court. Fitting in. Feeling like a winner. Nothing to lose, everything to gain. Ethel meekly excused herself as she stepped down from the bleachers, trying not to step on anyone's toes. She felt everyone's eyes on her, but that was inevitable, right? They weren't staring at her anymore than the other two beside her, were they?

But her eyes flitted to Cheryl and Veronica, who were muttering behind their hands, and they both looked away from her guiltily, lips twisted into smirks. Betty shot her a thumbs up and mouthed, You can do it. That didn't help, but Ethel knew where she stood.

"Attention!" Miss Grundy trilled. "Go!"

Shit!

"Running down the field  
Think you're gonna win-"

I know I'm gonna lose, what am I doing up here? Ethel's feet felt clunky and uncoordinated, but she forced herself to make them go the right way... no, left, no, wait... shoot, that was wrong...

 

"Think you're the best of all of them  
Mud in your face  
A big disgrace-"

Yup. Big disgrace. She had that covered. Was that shaky sounding squawk her voice? Miss Grundy furrowed her brows and made some notes on her clipboard. Ethel began to sweat. Serious flop sweat.

 

"Bulldogs gonna put you back in place  
We will, we will  
Rock you, sock you  
Pick you up and drop YOU!!" Ethel nearly forgot the words, but she recovered by shouting them almost too loud, finishing the cheer after her peers. It was like being the last person in the room to get the punchline.

"At ease. Nice job. Stand up straight, Ethel. That's better." Ethel forced her shoulders back, fighting her characteristic slouch, and she felt her face go beet red under Miss Grundy's scrutiny. Beside her, Miss Haggly gestured for her to smile, pretending to pinch the corners of her own mouth up with her fingers. Ethel squelched a sigh and tried to smile back.

"Next. Attention. Go!"

"We don't need no music  
We don't need no bands.

All we need is Bulldog fans

jammin' in the stands  
Oh wait, stop a minute, and let us put some

boom shaka laka laka boom shaka laka!

Let us put some boom in it!"

Ethel mentally counted her "boom shaka lakas" and hoped she didn't come up short. Her limbs felt jerky, and she knew she had turned the wrong way when she found herself facing her neighbor; she doubled back to correct, fuming with embarrassment.

"GO, TEAM!" Her voice was painfully out of sync with the other two girls, more of a querulous echo. Just let me get through this, she pleaded with the universe. Just let me do this without totally messing up. I'm dying, here!

"C'mon, girl," Nancy murmured anxiously, crossing her fingers. Betty squeezed her hand in agreement.

"She can do it."

"She's hating it up there."

"We'll take her to Pop's."

"There isn't enough ice cream in the world," Nancy whispered miserably as they heard Ethel's belated, halfhearted "Whoo!" emphasized by a weak fist pump.

Ethel was distracted from her troubles by the muted sound of male voices - male? - in the corridor. The door was ajar, and she saw out of the corner of her eye a few heads peering around the frame. Cold dread washed over her; football practice got out early. Please, please, don't let them watch me, I couldn't live it down, Universe, pleasepleaseplease -

"Look at Bee. Check out those chicken legs. Nice shorts." That had to be Moose. Ethel fumed. He needed to shut his big, fat mouth and leave her legs alone, and be more worried about the meat between his ears.

"Big Ethel's trying out for cheer? Aw, man!"

"She's going through with it?"

"Man, she's skinny. She'll freeze to death out on the field in that little short skirt." That had to be Chuck. How kind and concerned of him, she groused.

"Hey, Jug, check out your girlfriend!" Ethel's stomach dropped into her shoes. Please, say it isn't so. Please, Lord. Ethel watched Miss Haggly fiddle with the boom box, going back to the track. Ethel tried to pay attention to the pending routine, but she had to look back over her shoulder, give in to that temptation...

She craned her neck around and caught Jughead's eyes on her. His expression was hard to gage. No... wait. That faint little quirk of his lips. Oh, no. A smirk. Jughead was smirking. At. Her. He raised an incredulous brow. Ethel snapped her head forward, thoroughly shamed. He was watching her. Okay. On the one hand, she had his attention. On the other hand... screw the other hand. This was a disaster. She wanted to die.

The music filled the gym, and Ethel steeled herself. This was it. The next minute and a half would make her or break her. Ethel never expected her death knell to sound like Britney Spears.

She started off strongly enough, remembering the moves for the first few bars. She tried not to mouth the words, focusing only on her arms and legs, attempting to stay on the right foot. Ethel tried not to wonder how she looked from the back, feeling Jughead's gaze. What could be possibly think of her? She was distracted by Miss Haggly's sudden, shrill cry of "CLOSE THAT DOOR! Let these ladies have their privacy!" Ethel heard the boys retreating from the hall, and she felt grateful for the late intervention.

It still wasn't enough to save her dignity. Her ears caught Jughead's low, amused mutter. "Man, that's sad." Ethel stopped trying to keep up with the song and froze completely. Sad??? What did he mean, SAD? She wasn't even doing that badly, was she? Ethel searched herself for a reasonable truth, some saving grace that she could find in her own effort, for any way of justifying why she should just soldier on. Her eyes swam, and they didn't sharpen their focus again until she felt something hot and slick rolling down her cheeks, salting the corners of her mouth. The girls on the bleachers watched her with a combination of amusement and pity.

"Ethel? What's wrong?" Miss Grundy inquired. "You okay, kiddo?"

"Uh-uh," Ethel murmured, voice shaky as her legs. "Excuse me." Everything was a blur as she darted toward the refuge of the locker room. Her fingers clawed off the offending letter, crumpling it and chucking it at the trash barrel.

At least it was over. Now, she could die.

*

"Geez..." Archie tsked in frustration. Ethel ran out of there pretty fast, and he didn't have to guess why. Archie had loomed in the hall, spying on the tryouts with everybody else, but he was at the back of the crowd until Miss Haggly yelled at them to clear out. Archie simply shrugged and was about to head for the lockers when Reggie made his "girlfriend" crack to Jug for everybody to hear.

It was painful to watch her completely crumple like that. Her whole posture had changed, even though his back was turned to Archie. As soon as Jughead judged her performance, even though it wasn't even the rudest thing any of them had said - then again, maybe it was - he could tell that it had hurt her. The way she stiffened up spoke volumes. If there was one thing Archie knew about girls, and he prided himself on knowing a lot, it was that tryouts were a big deal. If Archie didn't make the football team, it'd suck, sure. He'd be disappointed after he'd worked so hard, but it wasn't the end of his world. He had other things to look forward to, like playing his guitar. It also helped that he had a girlfriend to spend time with. If Archie didn't play football, it wouldn't hurt him much, because he already had a life. He was already accepted.

Ethel had to be feeling like crap.

Archie headed back to the locker room and grabbed a towel off the shelf. He was surrounded by the noisy scuffle of sneakers hitting the floor and the slam of locker doors. He tried to ignore the little talent show going on in his row of Reggie, Chuck and Moose imitating the girls. He heard them singing the Britney Spears song off-key, and Reggie profiled, hands thrown over his head while he thrust out his hips.

"Oh! Look at me! Look at me, Juggie! Let me dance for you!" His falsetto voice cracked up his friends; even Bingo and Adam, who liked Ethel well enough, snickered at his routine.

"My eyes can't unsee that," Dilton moaned as he began to put away the team's equipment and pads.

"GO, BULLDOGS!" Reggie continued. "I've got school spirit, Juggie! Look at me, look at ME!"

"Knock it off," Archie snarled. The dark-haired first stringer ignored his warning and kept thrusting his hips, fondling an imaginary pair of breasts.

"Never mind those other girls, Juggie, I'll show you how to make a pyramid! You too, big boy!" He pretended to flirt with Moose, who shooed him away in irritation.

"Reg... enough. Quit it."

"What? Pfft... who gives a fuck? You saw her out there."

"She ran out. It's not funny."

"So? She was better off. She wasn't gonna make it, anyway. C'mon, Arch, it's Big Ethel we're talking about! A cheerleader? Not even. Not on her best day."

"The same girls make it every year, anyway," Adam pointed out. "Betty's on varsity this time." That pissed Archie off, but he let it go.

"Why can't Ethel cheer? At least she tried."

"She would've looked goofy up there," Moose mocked. "C'mon, Arch... she's Big Ethel. She's not like the other girls."

"No tits," Reggie said for him.

"No ass, either, man," Chuck chimed in.

"I can't go there with you," Archie muttered, throwing up his hand. He stalked off to the showers. He left behind Reggie's shrill call of "JUGGIE! OH, LOVER BOYYYY!!" and his display of fawning and blowing air kisses, wondering why he'd even bothered to speak up.


	5. Concessions

Concessions

Summary: Ethel rethinks her efforts at school spirit, and two boys begin to see her in a different light.

Disclaimer: I don't own any quotations made by Len Goodman from Dancing with the Stars.

Author’s Notes: This fic doesn’t have that many readers, so I won’t make too many apologies about not updating it lately. Real life has been nuts. I haven’t written any fic in weeks, with the exception of a DeviantArt-only Weird Mysteries fic that I only managed to add five meager pages to, and a RoLo fic snippet that keeps eluding me, making me fear that it will suck. Happy writing, friends.

Ethel pulled down the lever on the Icee machine, dispensing it into two tall paper cups. “Ethel, we need two more pretzels without salt,” Trula nagged from the window. “Hurry up with those drinks!”

“Give me a minute, please.”

“Don’t add salt.”

“I heard you the first time.” Ethel wasn’t fond of the gossipy brunette, even though they were both on the booster committee and in French Club. Trula Twyst wrote the entertainment section of the Riverdale Gold and Blue school newspaper, something Ethel figured gave her the authority to get up in everyone’s business. Ethel envied her looks; she was almost as tall as Ethel, but she stopped at “supermodel,” not “Jolly Green Giant.” Trula had naturally curly, chestnut brown hair and a rosy complexion; Ethel’s own skin was milky-fair and threatened to turn into bacon if she went out the door in any SPF under 50 during the summer. Her hair scoffed at curlers, leaving her with uneven waves. She gave up on long hair after middle school; it looked lank framing her long, narrow face. Her characteristic short bob gave it some character, at least, just long enough to pin back from her face with some cute barrettes.

It wasn’t a secret that Trula was also one of the only other girls at Riverdale who had a crush on Jughead Jones. Unlike Ethel, Trula was fond of nagging and heckling the dour drummer, taking a playground approach to flirting with him. She didn’t bake him anything, didn’t fawn, and she didn’t beg for his attention. Jug and Trula bickered constantly, always seeming to compete at things like disc golf, billiards, bowling or Xbox games; she constantly beat him. Jug always demanded a rematch.

Ethel wanted to smack her with her shoe.

She fixed the pretzels, zapping them in the microwave and placing tissue paper liners into two white cartons. Ethel waited for them to “ding” and handed the snacks to Trula along with a handful of napkins. Trula told the customer cheerfully, “That’ll be five dollars.” She handed Ethel the crumpled ten-spot, and she dutifully made change. Ethel was getting sick of the odor of French fry grease and needed a break.

“I need to take ten,” she told Miss Beazley.

“Go for it, kiddo,” the geriatric cook offered. “You get a free snack; don’t forget.”

“I’m fine, for the moment.”

“Some cocoa might warm you up.”

“Maybe before we close.” Ethel shrugged into her heavy down vest, knotted her delicate crocheted scarf around her neck and braved the chilly night.

“Don’t take too long!” Trula called after her.

“I’m just taking a break,” Ethel tossed over her shoulder. “Sheesh,” she added under her breath. Ethel stalked down the short, grassy slope that led toward the field. She bypassed the crowded bleachers, deciding to hang out off to the side. A shrill wind snuck under her collar, and Ethel shivered, shoving her hands into her pockets to keep them warm. It was a typical Riverdale October night, promising a brittle winter in a matter of weeks.

It was halftime, and Ethel watched the Blue and Gold cheerleaders take the sidelines, performing all the cheers that she now knew by rote, for all the good it did her. Ethel wasn’t bitter; it was freezing out, and she was thankful for her warm jeans and heavy, merino wool sweater. Just seeing Betty, Nancy and Veronica in those short gold skirts made her feel even colder. Over the racket of the gale winds and chatter from the crowd, Ethel heard the blare of horns and a staccato drum roll, meaning the marching band was warming up. She allowed herself a smug grin; Jughead would be out on the field, maybe even before she was due back at the snack shack.

Ethel liked volunteering through the booster club to work the concession stand. She got to see the football games for free, it was warmer in the shack than it was on-field, and Jughead usually stopped by to stock up on goodies once the halftime show was over. Ethel still relished opportunities to make small talk with him, despite Archie’s advice. It was hard to break the habit of just… knowing where he was. Jughead was her eighth wonder. Her eyes still searched for him in crowds and darted toward the classroom door every time it opened, begging for a glimpse of him. It was painful.

She watched the football game with moderate enthusiasm. Riverdale had a good varsity team this year, having won six out of eight games since the beginning of the season. Ethel listened to the thudding of cleats and the shrill whistle blast as it signaled the snap. She recognized Archie’s lean build as he darted back with the ball couched firmly in his grip. He looked for his running back, blue eyes scanning for Reggie’s gold number “16.” He didn’t disappoint him.

“C’MON, ARCH!” Reggie’s sharp baritone cut across the swell of noise from the crowd. He waved his hands over his head in the universal gesture of Over here! Archie jerked briefly, startled as Moose narrowly blocked a tackle meant for him. Archie heard the crush of muscle and bone and harsh thud of Central’s offensive tackle biting it. He found a clear pocket across the field and aimed for Mantle.

“C’mon, Archie!” Ethel cried, cupping her hands around her mouth. “PASS IT!” She clapped along with the crowd. “WHOO! GO!” At least she could still cheer for him as a fan, she decided; pompoms weren’t necessary.

Archie’s ear picked up the sharp, feminine voice from the sideline, heeding his ego’s instincts. Nothing appealed to him more than hearing a girl call his name, but it surprised him that he didn’t recognize the owner.

“ARCH! OVER HERE! NOW!” Reggie barked. Archie juked, evading another tackle, and he found the pocket again.

“GO, ARCHIE! YOU CAN DO IT!” Ethel encouraged.

“Huh?” There was the voice again, and Archie missed his moment. His blue eyes zeroed in on the source, and widened when he saw Big Ethel on the sidelines, cheering for him.

“ANDREWS!”

“Shit!” he hissed, and Archie winged him a clean pass.

His world turned itself on its ear as pain exploded through his ribs. His breath was crushed from his lungs and he landed hard, eating the cold earth. The whistle blasted over the crowd’s roars and boos from the home side of the field. “Shit,” Archie muttered miserably. “Ow…”

Archie mercifully blacked out. He had a faint impression of Ethel looking horrified where she stood, a blur of green wool and dark jeans, covering her mouth in embarrassment.

She was embarrassed for him.

 

*

What felt like moments later, Archie blinked up into Coach Kleats’ face, squinting and groaning in pain. In the bright stadium lights, he could almost count the pockmarks across his nose. “Anyone… get the number of that truck?”

“You okay, Andrews? Just take it easy. How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two,” he offered hopefully.

“You took a bad hit,” Floyd Clayton volunteered grimly. “What happened out here?”

“Don’t… know,” Archie admitted. “Guess I got distracted.”

“Reggie was right in the pocket,” Kleats remarked. Archie groaned, and he recanted. “Don’t move yet. How’s your neck?”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“The rest of me’s not so good.” Archie felt the stings of myriad scrapes and new he’d have new additions to his bruise collection in the morning. The crowd was hushed; he heard only faint murmurings and the band had stopped practicing in the lowest rows of bleachers, the strains of the school anthem conspicuously missing. Coach Kleats nodded toward the sidelines.

“He’s okay!” he informed Mr. Weatherbee.

“That’s a relief,” he breathed. Miss Grundy had abandoned the snack shack and stood beside him with the first aid kit.

“Can you get up?” Kleats inquired. “Let me help you. Slowly.” Archie rolled carefully up onto his elbow, and the ground began to spin.

“Ooh…”

“Take it easy, boy. Give it another minute.”

“We don’t want to move you if it means you could collapse,” Floyd added.

“I can manage. I think…” Archie sighed. “Did I make it?”

“Not this time, son.” Archie groaned again, this time in disgust.

“They’re gonna hate me…”

“Uh-uh. It’s not them laid out on the ground. No one’s got any business giving you a hard time if you gave it your all, Arch. Let’s go. It’s cold, I don’t want you out here like this.”

“It’s not any warmer on the bench.” Archie got himself up and began hobbling toward the edge of the field, and he heard a low wave of applause. He saw his teammates, first and second string alike, lined up neatly in a row and kneeling on one knee, watching him expectantly. Coach Kleats shouldered himself under Archie’s arm and helped him the rest of the way. Archie’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, but he was relieved when they got up and ringed him protectively, even Reggie.

“You okay?” he demanded. He sounded legitimately worried, gripping his arm.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Good. You suck.” Reggie slapped his back and moved on. Archie glared.

“Sheesh…” Chuck gave Reggie a hard shove.

“Quit being a douche,” Chuck warned the smug running back. “C’mon, bro.” Archie shucked his helmet and chucked it on the ground, sinking gratefully onto the bench.

“I do suck,” he admitted miserably. “I missed my moment.”

“You stood stock still for a sec,” Chuck pointed out. “What was that about?”

“Just… nothing. Guess I zoned out.”

“And they tell me the lights are on but nobody’s home,” Moose quipped as he chugged down a paper cup of Gatorade. Miss Grundy stopped by and solicitously checked him over, cleaning and bandaging a scrape on his arm. Coach Kleats retrieved Archie’s Riverdale letter jacket and draped it over his shoulders, protecting him from the chilly night as his sweat began to cool over his flesh.

You can’t win ‘em all…

“Archie?” A timid, girlish voice beckoned to him, and Archie craned his neck around, meeting Big Ethel’s worried gray eyes. She held out a Styrofoam cup that released thin plumes of steam. “I… just wanted to bring you this. Maybe it’ll help.”

“What is it?”

“Cocoa.” She held it out to him shyly. “You okay?”

“You’re not supposed to be down here,” Chuck reminded her dryly. “Unless you brought more?” Ethel made a face at him, but brightened briefly when Archie took the cup.

“Thanks, Bee.” She didn’t scold him for the use of the hated moniker.

“Sure. Sorry, Archie.”

“Why?”

“Just… I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“Go back up to the stands, please, young lady,” Floyd Clayton urged before Archie could form a reply.

“Right. Going.” Ethel’s cheeks burned. She hurried away, trying not to meet the other players’ eyes. Archie’s eyes followed her retreat, and he huffed in confusion. Ethel made her way back to the snack shack, stopping briefly at the sound of a familiar tenor.

“Ethel?”

“Oh… hi, Dilly.” Dilton pushed his glassed back up onto his nose and adjusted his Nikon lens, smiling warmly up at her. “Get any good shots?”

“Yup. Sucks that he missed that pass.”

“I’m just glad that he didn’t get too hurt.”

“Just his pride. Poor guy. If that was me, I’d be a grease spot out on the field.”

“No! Please,” she chided him. Ethel hated it when Dilton was self-deprecating because of his stature. Dilton never grew past five-foot-five, which always meant being in the front row of every school photo, but being picked last for every team. Ethel could relate to the second part, with the exception of track.

“Then again, I’d never be out there,” he mused. “I thought you were taking a turn working in the snack shack for boosters tonight.”

“I was. And I took a break.”

“Trula up there with you?”

“Yup.” Ethel made a face.

“You don’t sound too thrilled.”

“Right in one.”

“She seems okay to me.”

“She just… rubs me the wrong way. I don’t know why. Wait. I take that back, I do know why. She’s annoying. And pushy. And just… annoying.”

“And she likes Jug.”

“And she likes… wait. What?”

“She’s not that subtle, Ethel.”

“Oh. No. She’s not. Not at all,” Ethel hedged. In the back of her mind, she admitted, Neither am I, huh? Dilton adjusted his glasses again.

“Don’t let her give you a hard time.”

“I know, I know…”

“Are you headed to Pop’s after the game?”

“I hadn’t planned to. Why? Who’s going?”

“Well, I am,” Dilton said, smirking.

“Oh…pffft! Right. I was just wondering if it was going to be a group.”

“Probably. Usually is.”

“I don’t know… maybe.”

“I’ll look out for you if you go,” Dilton offered. “Moose mentioned it earlier. You can hang out with us?”

“I don’t want to be a third wheel.”

“Nah. You’d be a fourth wheel. Moose wouldn’t show up without Midge.” That comforted Ethel – slightly. She got along fine with the petite brunette for the most part, even though she envied her curves, small feet, and the fact that she didn’t have any trouble finding pants that were long enough.

“That’s fine, I guess.”

“Why not? What else have you got to do on a Friday night?”

“Don’t rub it in.” She elbowed him playfully. “I’ll look for you there.”

“That’s fine! Later, Ethel.”

“Bye, Dilly.” Ethel headed back to the steamy interior of the shack, grateful to shake off the chill. Trula gave her a harried look as she craned her neck around from the service window.

“Ethel, we need more pretzels!”

“I’m on it.” Ethel busied herself, warming up more nacho cheese, assembling cartons of chips and placing more mini pizzas into the microwave. She slid warmed pretzels into their paper sleeves and lined them up in the rack, and Ethel allowed herself to look forward to the trip to Pop’s. Who knew? Maybe it would be fun for a change, since she had an actual invitation. Going there after school and running into her girlfriends was one thing, but going at nighttime was different. Having a boy ask her, even if that boy was just one of her buddies, put a new spin on it. At least someone finally thought of her. It felt great to just be included.

“Excuse me,” Jughead called in through the window, “can I order?” Ethel snapped out of her reverie and almost dropped the nacho cheese bucket.

“Sure, Juggie! What can I get you?” Trula grinned back at him, hand on her hip. “Come to buy us out already?”

“That depends on whether you made the food. I don’t want ptomaine,” he quipped, smirking.

“Oh, ha-ha,” she tsked.

“There’s no ptomaine in my snack shack!” Miss Beazley snapped, waving her serving tongs at him.

“Ah, what the heck. You only live once. I’ll take some nachos and a corn dog.” Behind Trula, Ethel hurried to assemble his order into a snack box. “Let’s throw on a couple of mini pizzas while you’re at it.”

“Watching your girlish figure?” Trula accused.

“Jealous?” Ethel rolled her eyes and made a sound of disgust. Trula glanced back at her.

“Hurry it up with that order, Bee!”

“Don’t call me that,” Ethel muttered. She came up to the window and elbowed Trula out of the way when she tried to take the box from her hands. “Here, Juggie. Anything else? Want a hot cocoa?”

“I didn’t even know you were in there,” he remarked as he took the box. Jughead dug into his pocket and handed over a ten-spot, sliding it over the ledge. Trula reached around Ethel and snatched the money up quickly, fanning the flames of Ethel’s annoyance.

“I’ve been here since the game started.”

“Not the whole game. Ethel had to take a break,” Trula interjected as she counted out Jug’s change from the register. Ethel huffed as Trula reached around her again, practically shoving her aside as she gave him the change.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t know I helped out at all…”

“Can I still get that cocoa?”

“Sure, Jug.” Ethel dutifully filled a cup with the sweet brew and snapped on a white lid. She evaded Trula’s grab for the cup and handed it out to him herself.

“Why aren’t you with the band tonight, Jug?”

“I joined concert band. I didn’t feel like marching or carrying the gear. It’s a pain.”

“Aw, where’s your school spirit?” Trula nagged.

“I’m showing my school spirit. I support the boosters club,” he shrugged as he bit into a mini pizza. Ethel smirked, catching his eye. Jughead smirked back.

“Sounds pretty supportive to me,” Ethel agreed simply. Jug smiled and tipped his hat to them.

“Thanks for the cocoa, Ethel. I needed the warm-up.” He began to leave, but Trula called after him.

“Juggie, are you headed to Pop’s tonight?”

Drat. Drat, drat, drat that Trula! Darn it! Why???

Why did she get to ask him first?

Then Ethel reminded herself, because Archie’s advice was still ringing in her ears. She was trying too hard, and it wasn’t helping her case any to chase Jughead if he didn’t want to be caught.

“Pop’s?” Jughead mumbled around the rest of the pizza that he’d shoved into his mouth, wrongly assuming the conversation was over.

“Yes, Pops! Everybody’s going,” Trula scoffed. “Duh.”

“I’ll probably head over with Arch, if he even feels like it. Think his pride’s a little bruised. Come to think of it, he’s a little bruised all over.”

“What?” Trula demanded. “What happened?”

“Didn’t you hear? Archie got sacked, hard.”

“Oh, no! That was Archie?” Ethel squirmed uncomfortably behind her, busying herself with refilling the cocoa dispenser.

“You saw what happened, didn’t you, Ethel?” Jug pointed out.

“Er…”

“You didn’t say anything,” Trula accused.

“I just… figured you knew. Sheesh. Don’t sound so thrilled that he got hurt, Trula.” Ethel decided her best defense was to turn the nosy heifer’s game against her for a minute. “Why? Are you going to print it in the sports section of the paper, or your little column?”

“What? No! Please,” Trula mocked. “Don’t be dense, Bee.”

“It’s Ethel,” she reminded her dryly. “You’re the one sounding so thrilled that Archie got hurt, like it’s some big news flash. Get bent.”

“Girls! That’s enough,” Miss Beazley snapped, scowling. “That’s no way to talk. You’re working, so act like it. Take your argument away from school grounds.” She removed the paper receipt roll with its steadily widening pink ink streak from the cash register. “Or just don’t argue at all, that’s an option, too,” she grumbled under her breath. School spirit and tenure were her only reasons for volunteering to be the booster club advisor for a tenth year in a row. Chastened and fuming, both girls went back to their tasks.

“Catch you at Pop’s, Ethel,” Jughead tossed over his shoulder as he took his leave this time.

“HEY!” Trula protested, but the gangly junior’s grey beanie disappeared into the crowd. The buzzer and whistle for the third quarter blared, and people began milling in the bleachers, making their way toward the snack shack, and suddenly, the three women were swamped with orders for hot cocoa and nachos. Bingo, Jinx, and a couple of other second stringers made a Power-Ade and hot dog run, forking over a couple of crumpled ten-spots.

“Hey, Ethel,” Bingo called into the window. “What’s shakin’?”

“Nothing new. Did you see Sam at halftime?”

“Heck, yeah!” he grinned. “She’s the best part of halftime!” Silently, Ethel wished Bingo’s cousin would pay her that kind of attention. What was it like to have a boyfriend who was proud of you? “I’m meeting her at Pop’s.”

“That’s nice.”

“Go,” he encouraged.”

“Yeah. Why not?” Jinx chimed in.

“I guess,” she murmured. “Just the hot dogs?”

“Yup. Saving room for a burger.” Ethel chuckled, marveling that Jughead had no concept of “saving room.” Obviously, Bingo didn’t have his cousin’s iron gut.

“See you at Pop’s,” Bingo decided for her.

“I don’t know, yet.”

“Just go,” he shrugged.

“C’mon,” Jinx added.

“Ethel never goes to Pop’s on Friday night,” Trula teased, as though she would even know. Ethel was ready to dunk her curly head into the cheese sauce.

“You going, Trula?”

“Jug told me he was going,” she said matter-of-factly, as though that explained everything.

“Enough gab, more snacks,” Miss Beazley prodded as she removed the hot dogs from the rollers.

“Bye,” Ethel offered, giving the boys a weak wave.

“Later!”

The rest of the night was busy but uneventful. Ethel wished she had volunteered to work at the ticket booth, instead, where she would have a better view of the field. She wondered how Archie was faring, and she felt guilty all over again for his sack. Ouch… Suddenly, the prospect of going to Pop’s lost his appeal. If Archie showed up, would he blame her for distracting him? Ethel weighed her options, and the slight glow she felt at having an after-game gathering – among the sort of popular crowd who usually ignored her – faltered slightly when she thought of the missed touchdown. Shoot. Shoot, shoot, shoot.

Ethel sighed in exasperation. Miss Beazley peered at her over a steaming tray of mini pizzas as she removed them from the microwave. “What’s with you?”

“Nothing.” And that, Ethel realized, was the problem. No one really cared what was up with her, did they?

Not really.

*

 

Riverdale squeaked by with a narrow victory, 25-24, thanks to Moose’s punt. The marching band broke into one last, uneven, blaring rendition of the school song in the bleachers as the teams left the field. Ethel and Trula finished packing up the remaining food supplies and bagging up the garbage. Miss Beazley counted up the earnings in the register and nodded approvingly.

“Good job, ladies. We practically sold out.”

“I can’t look at another hot dog,” Ethel admitted.

“Me, either,” Trula agreed. “I want a sundae!” That made Ethel fume all over again, but she said nothing.

“You girls can go ahead,” Miss Beazley told them, shooing them off. “You were a big help. Don’t stay out too late and worry your parents.”

“That’s never a problem,” Ethel muttered under her breath.

“What was that, sweetie?” Miss Beazley inquired.

“Nothing. Just… nothing. See you later, ma’am.”

Ethel hurried out toward the parking lot, her mind brewing with possibilities. On the one hand, she could go home. Change into her Hello Kitty footie pajamas and curl up with a roll of cookie dough and Smallville reruns on Netflix. She could enjoy the brief moment when Jughead paid her some attention, a fleeting moment, and victory, if you looked at it that way. It was a harmless, safe plan. It was comfortable. She’d be in by curfew.

On the other hand…

She could go to Pop’s while she was still decently dressed and groomed. She might run into Juggie again… and it wouldn’t be premeditated, would it? If he mentioned it to her directly that he was going to Pop’s, that didn’t count as “stalking” if she actually showed up, did it? Didn’t he actually say “Catch you at Pop’s?”

That put a different spin on things and made up her mind. Ethel keyed the ignition of her tiny car and followed the long line of headlights out of the parking lot. With a feeling of anticipation fizzing in her gut, Ethel noticed that a lot of them were turning left at the Elm Street intersection, more than likely heading to Pop’s.

She only lived once. And, realistically, she scoffed, she would probably still be in by curfew.

Ethel ended up driving around the block twice when she got to Pop’s, trying to find a decent parking spot, but the crowd was already there, and a quick glance in the windows told her that three quarters of the tables were already taken. She saw a lot of blue sweaters and letter jackets, but she didn’t see any sign of a familiar gray beanie. Ethel made one more pass through the parking lot at the rear, and she managed to spot a senior citizen couple getting into a sharp Lincoln Navigator. She waited patiently, waiting for them to back out. The man at the steering wheel waved to her over his shoulder, and she waved back, grateful that he gave her a crack at that spot. Just as she inched her way into the space, she heard the loud blare of a horn and blinked at the onslaught of high beams. Ethel glared back at the jackass that was set on blinding her.

“THAT WAS MY SPOT!” Reggie bellowed out from his window. Ethel made sure he was watching and flipped him the bird before she could stop herself. She heard him crowing at her, “Whoa! She flipped me the bird! Ooh, I’m so scared! ETHEL FLIPPED ME THE BIRD! I’M TELLING YOUR MOTHER, BEE!”

“Jackass,” Ethel muttered. “Up yours.” She still wasn’t surrendering her parking spot, no matter what stupid thing he said, so who really won this round? He blinked his high beams at her just to annoy her, and she turned off her engine just to stake her claim.

“BITCH!”

“Dumb ass,” she informed him from the driver’s seat as she dug in her purse for her pink lip gloss. Ethel combed her hair in her rearview mirror and painted a neat pout with the tiny stick, screwing it back into the tube. Part of her almost wanted to flee, but she realized that it wasn’t up to Reggie Mantle to decide where she spent her Friday night. Let him be an ass. Ethel was, for the most part, invited to be there, or at least informed of where everyone would be. That was good enough for her.

Reggie abandoned his efforts at haranguing her for the moment, still circling the lot for a place to park his convertible. Ethel made good her escape and headed in through the side entrance. Ethel’s risk paid off. As she scanned the room, she heard Betty’s familiar chirp. “Ethel! Over here! Come sit with us!” Betty, Adam, Nancy and Midge were at a circular booth in the corner. Ethel felt unsure for a moment. Wherever you found Midge and Nancy, Chuck and Moose usually weren’t far behind, and that meant that Ethel was essentially a third – well, seventh wheel. There would just barely be room for her.

“Are you waiting for anyone else?” she fished. She scanned the restaurant, but she didn’t see Dilton yet, or Brigitte, who would also welcome her easily enough without judging her for not being half of a couple.

“Moose isn’t here yet,” Midge explained. “Come hang out. Sam’s here with Bingo and they’re waiting on a another couple of people. You can always sit with them when Moose and Chuck get here, or you can stay here.”

“It’s no big deal,” Betty agreed. “Hang out! Ronnie’s on her way here, too. She decided to go home and change. She said she’d probably come with Reggie.”

“He’s already here,” Ethel said sourly, pulling a face.

“Oops…” Betty chuckled. “What did he do now?”

“Act like a jackass when I took the parking spot he wanted.”

“Tough noogies. He’s a big boy, he’ll get over it,” Nancy assured her, rolling her eyes. “That boy isn’t right, sometimes.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Reggie’s just Reggie,” Midge explained. Ethel sighed. Midge was a nice enough girl, but she sometimes wondered if she knew how she sounded when she defended him. Reggie hadn’t done the best job of concealing his attraction to the petite bombshell, and the fact that she was taken made her even more appealing to him. “Just ignore him.”

“That won’t make him go away,” Ethel deadpanned. Nancy and Betty crowed, reaching up for high fives. Adam grinned as he stirred his vanilla malted with his straw.

“Don’t feel bad, Ethel. Mantle is a jackass. You’re not in the minority.”

“He’s always been that way,” Betty mentioned. “He used to pull my pigtails when I was a kid. He knocked over my snowman once, too.”

“Small man complex,” Adam suggested.

“Oh, ha-ha,” Betty snorted. Then, “Maybe.” Ethel grinned. Slowly she began to feel better. She wasn’t at home by herself, or at a table by herself. That meant something, didn’t it?

Then the thorn in her side had to come in and ruin it all. Reggie swept in through the front door with Veronica on his arm, and Ethel noticed that she hadn’t changed out of her cheerleading uniform, after all; Ethel decided she probably wanted to show off her position on the squad with everyone else, especially the captain’s pin on her sweater. What else would you expect? Ethel shrank back into the cushioned seat of the booth, silently wishing they both would go away.

Too late. Reggie caught her glance and smirked. “You took my parking spot,” he announced loudly.

“You snooze, you lose,” Ethel retorted.

“Guess you snooze all the time, then!” Reggie jeered, laughing at his own joke. A few onlookers stared at Ethel with amusement, and suddenly the sugar container and napkin dispenser became very interesting to her. Ethel toyed with the tines of her fork. “Why don’t you give us a cheer? We won! You should have been on the squad, Ethel! Sorry you didn’t make it!” Reggie imitated the cheerleader’s halftime dance while Veronica stood by, laughing behind her hand, occasionally sneaking glances at Ethel to gage her reaction.

“Reggie… God, you’re so embarrassing,” she prodded, but she was enjoying the spectacle. That made ten of them, or perhaps fifteen, at Ethel’s count. Her cheeks burned and she lost her appetite. But deep inside her being, a tiny voice nagged her:

Are you really going to let him treat you like that?

Heck, no, she nagged back. Give me a chance, here.

“He’s just embarrassing himself!” Ethel snapped. Pride stiffened her spine and she was leaning on the edge of her seat now. Her earlier bravado from the parking lot came back. The restaurant began to fill up, and she saw more familiar faces milling around. The Blossom twins held court in the center of the shop, having moved two tables together, and they turned toward the commotion near the door. “Maybe you should have gone out for cheering, Reggie. You can’t run to save your life.”

“Shit,” Nancy muttered beside her, covering her mouth with her hand. “Nice one,” she whispered.

“I can’t run… I CAN’T RUN? You’re gonna tell ME how to play football? Maybe YOU should have gone out for football, since everybody calls you BIG ETHEL!” he jeered. Reggie’s smile was cruel. “Except you’ve got two left feet! Go ahead and show us your cheers! Show everybody what they missed at halftime!”

“Get bent!” Ethel’s eyes grew dangerously warm, the threat of tears making them spark, but anger simmered in her veins. Reggie didn’t care, wound up as he was in entertaining the crowd at her expense.

Unnoticed, Jughead bit into his second hamburger at the far end of the counter. If Ethel had scanned the crowd a bit longer before taking up her spot at the booth, she might have noticed him and spent her time hedging and arguing with herself about how to approach him. Like everyone else, Jughead paused at the sound of the commotion above the clatter and clink of glasses being loaded into the dishwasher in the kitchen and the sizzle of meat on Pop’s grill. Was that Ethel? And why did her voice sound so heated?

Jughead could count on one hand the number of times he’d ever seen Ethel lose her temper and still have fingers left. The first time was pretty legit, when they were in freshman year, and Moose ruined her yearbook. A passing truck driving through a huge puddle and soaking her to the skin on the way to school before she got her driver’s license was justifiable. Accidentally burning a batch of caramel for some apples she was about to dip was a pretty good reason. Jughead could appreciate all of them.

But Ethel was raising her voice, and it held a defensive note, like she was being ragged on. By Reggie, no less.

Right. There was no sitting still for that noise. No one deserved to have that loudmouth up in their grill. Jughead set down the sandwich and abandoned his stool. As he passed, Trula looked up from her menu and tried to tug on his sleeve. “Juggie! Pull up a chair.”

“I’m good.” He ignored her pout and headed toward the circular booth. Jughead watched Reggie from the back, making a fool of himself as usual, but he sopped up the attention like a sponge. Jughead cleared his throat and barked, “DULL, DULL, DULL!” in his best Len Goodman voice. Everyone was startled from Reggie’s spectacle, but no one was surprised at the source.

Jughead and Reggie’s rivalry was longstanding and legend. Where Reggie lacked subtlety and discretion, Jughead was his polar opposite, lacking patience for bullshit artists. “If you’re not in the bottom two next week, I’ll show me bum in the supermarket! Ding, dong Donny!”

“Oh, no,” Betty murmured. Now Reggie had done it, and Jughead looked calm, but she knew he was loaded for bear. That was part of his charm, even if it was limited when it came to girls.

“Take a chill pill! I tried judging with me eyes shut, it wasn’t much better! Gettin’ on my nerves, y’are! It was consistent, it was terrible from start to finish! Did I tell you you’ve got the guns, but not the ammunition?”

“I’ve got the ammunition,” Reggie argued smugly, flexing a bicep. Jughead shook his head.

“You’ve done all the right steps, but unfortunately, they were all at the wrong time! Terrible!” A ripple of laughter greeted his impersonation, complete with the gruff expression and gestures.

“Tell Ethel,” Reggie shrugged. “I’m just copying her moves! She taught me everything I know!” Ethel fumed but wisely kept her mouth shut.

“It needed a bit more Welly,” Archie piped up from the doorway. “You can’t just come in here, shaking your wobbly bits! Your feet were all over the place!” Archie’s British accent needed work; Jughead was the better mimic. “Your posture’s a little bit bizarre!” Ethel was stunned. She’d stressed so much over how she would handle seeing Archie after her mistake… yet, was he defending her? Her brain couldn’t process what she was hearing. Nancy and Midge giggled, but Betty sighed in annoyance. Then Ethel remembered that her bestie was still mad at him for standing her up.

“You’re the one that got sacked. Don’t give me that ‘bizarre posture’ shit.” Archie was nonplussed. But Ethel took it personally on his behalf.

“Leave him alone!” she cried.

“That’s enough! I won’t have fighting in my shop,” Pop’s boomed. The burly soda jerk stared them all down, arms crossed over his white apron. “Everybody better be ordering or eating. If not, get out!”

“Eating’s fine with me,” Jughead shrugged.

“Sure. Go stuff your face,” Reggie told him. “Guess you’re done defending your girlfriend, Needle-Nose.” Jughead paused and narrowed his eyes.

“Shut your hole.” Ethel paled, and she couldn’t watch him anymore.

“Why does she need defending?” Archie cut in. “Why did you need to get up in her face in the first place?”

“Pfft… you’re sticking up for her now?” Reggie’s tone suggested that it was a likely story.

“No one needs to stick up for me,” Ethel reminded them both. She pushed her way out of the booth, shoving Reggie out of her way as she darted for the door. She’d had enough for one night.

“She did me a favor,” Reggie told no one in general. But he hurried after her, standing outside the shop and cupping his hand around his mouth. “Thanks for leaving me a parking spot, Big Ethel! Let me move my car!”

“Bastard,” Nancy tsked.

“Wow,” Midge agreed. “What was he thinking?”

“Adam, I’ll be back,” Betty told him, excusing herself. He slid out to let her out of the booth, and Betty hurried out the door. “Get out of the way, Reggie!” she snapped as he tried to tug on her arm.

“Aw, Bets! Let her go! Who cares? It’s ETHEL!”

“She’s my friend, asshole. I care, that’s who. Just go back inside!” Betty took off across the parking lot, where Ethel fumbled with her keys and jerked the car door open. “Ethel! Wait!” Behind her, Reggie threw his hands up in defeat.

“Leave me alone. I’m going home,” Ethel told her miserably. “That sucked. This whole night has sucked SO much.” Her gray eyes were bloodshot, and Betty gently wrapped her arm around her shoulders.

“It’s okay. Don’t go, kiddo.”

“I’m so done,” Ethel whimpered. She sagged out of Betty’s embrace and sank into her driver’s seat. “Why did I even come?”

“I was glad to see you,” Betty offered. “Sorry about what happened back there.”

“Why does that always happen?” Ethel wanted to know. “Can I just go out once in public without someone like Reggie embarrassing me?”

“Why be embarrassed? He was the one acting like an idiot.”

“Everybody was laughing.”

“At him. Not with him.” Betty knelt in front of her and took her hand. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. That was humiliating. I just want… I don’t know, Betty. I just want people to stop bagging on me every day. I don’t talk about anyone or treat anybody like dirt the way they treat me. What makes Reggie so hot?”

“Ethel, trust me, Reggie’s shit does stink. Badly. You think that guy’s not insecure?”

“He’s definitely insecure,” Archie agreed gruffly. Betty craned her neck around to stare up at him and sighed.

“I think we’re okay here.”

“I just wanted to check on her,” Archie told her. “You all right?”

“No. Not really.”

“I’ve got this, Arch.”

“Bets… give me a minute. Go back inside. I want to talk with Ethel.”

“Why-“

“Go,” he urged impatiently. “Go back inside. Adam’s wondering when you’re coming back.”

“Adam’s a big boy,” Betty reminded him sharply, her blue eyes sparking indignantly. Ethel winced.

“I’m just going home, guys. You can both go inside.” Betty had to move aside as Ethel pulled her car door shut.

“You don’t have to leave, Ethel,” Archie reminded her.

“There’s no way I’m staying,” she argued.

“You’re sure?” Betty urged.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Ethel assured her. Betty leaned into through her car window and gave her a quick hug, kissing her temple.

“That’s fine.”

“Ethel, wait a minute.”

“She just said she’s leaving, Arch.”

“I know that. But not yet.” Archie took a different tack, circling her car and opening the passenger door.

“What the…? Okay.” Ethel looked confused as the redheaded quarterback buckled himself in and closed the door. “What’s the deal?”

“You said you’re leaving. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Isn’t Ronnie waiting for you inside?” Ethel reminded him.

“News flash, Ethel: She came in with Reggie. Oh, right. You missed it.”

“Oh. Oops…” Ethel automatically felt bad about even mentioning it, and Betty’s look of disgust found its target. Archie had the decency to look embarrassed.

“G’night,” Betty bade them both.

“Night, Betty,” Ethel told her. She watched the swish of Betty’s blonde ponytail retreating across the lot until she disappeared, then closed her eyes, bowing her head to the steering wheel. “It just gets worse…”

“Can we talk now?”

“Sure. Why not?” Ethel forced herself to look at him. “I have no idea why, Archie, but go ahead.”

“Thanks for the cocoa. I don’t know why you did it, but it was nice.”

“Yeah, well… you’re welcome. Not much consolation for me screwing up your play.” Archie was taken aback.

“How did you screw up my play? I got sacked. We missed a touchdown. It’s not the end of the world. Well, it kinda was when it happened… Bee, don’t cry. Shoot.” Archie scanned the interior of the car, looking for anything that could be used as a tissue. He found a handful of crumpled fast food napkins in the console and handed her one.

“I didn’t mean to distract you.”

“Well, it was just a bad moment. So my timing was a little off.” Ethel blew her nose and dabbed her eyes miserably.

“I shouldn’t have been right out there where I’d get in the way.”

“You weren’t on the field. You weren’t in the way. Central’s tackle, THAT guy was in the way. So, to me, it sounds like you don’t have to be sorry. And for the record, Ethel, that wasn’t the first time I ever got distracted by a cute girl during a game. At least you brought me cocoa. Which was nice, I might add, since it was cold out tonight.”

“I can’t look at another cup of cocoa,” she admitted. “I was in the concession booth all night. All of that food loses its appeal after three hours.”

“But you still came to Pop’s for a burger?” Archie smiled disarmingly. Ethel snorted.

“Not really. Look, I’m headed home. Do you want to get out of my car already?” Ethel emphasized her point by turning the key in the ignition. Her car radio blared Maroon 5 and clicked the car’s auto-locks at him.

“Well… no.” Ethel paused, then did a double take. Archie’s face was serious.

“Wait… whaddya mean, no?”

“What part of ‘Veronica came with Reggie’ did you miss? Here are my options. Go hang out with Jug while he eats his weight in burgers. Watch Betty glare at me while she’s cozying up to Adam. Watch Reggie and Ronnie acting all kissy-goo-goo. Watch Nancy and Chuck acting kissy-goo-goo. Watch Moose and Midge acting kissy-goo-goo. Or leave with you, get some fresh air, and get the skinny from you about why you’re so obsessed with my best friend.”

“You’re not right in the head.”

“And?”

“Fine. But we’re not going to my house,” Ethel decided. “You’re buckled in.”

“Yup.”

“You’re buying.” Before he could protest, she backed out of the space, telling him “Pick a station. My CD player’s broken.”

*

 

Archie couldn’t remember the last time a woman had driven him anywhere, except his mom, before he got his own license and car. It felt odd being tucked snugly into the passenger side of Ethel’s tiny car. Her seat was pushed almost all the way back to accommodate her long legs, a fact that silently amused him.

“You sure do like Hello Kitty,” he pointed out. He flicked the little pendant dangling from her rearview. Ethel chuckled.

“That’s how I roll. Don’t diss Kitty.”

“I did no such thing! Kitty and I can hang.” Her car was so girly, but he chided himself that ol’ Betsy wasn’t exactly a Rolls-Royce. Veronica never failed to let him know that.

They drove down Main Street at a leisurely pace. Ethel was a careful driver, and she hummed slightly with the stereo. “Archie? Where are we going?”

“You’re the one at the wheel,” he shrugged. “I’m just along for the ride.”

“You’re the one who wanted to talk.”

“Oh, yeah. Right. That. Okay. Hit Palmer’s store. They’re still open.”

“For what?”

“You said I’m buying,” he offered. She peered over at him, and his smile just… puzzled her.

“Oookaaaayyy… Palmer’s.” They sat silently, watching the street lights glance over the windshield as she drove and counting intersections. Ethel had about another hour til curfew, and it felt strange to spend it with Archie, of all people. Not bad… just odd. How did they end up here?

They pulled into the lot of the mom-and-pop shop, finding it nearly empty. In the back of of the store, they saw a middle-aged, balding man in a Family Guy tee shirt playing the old Galaga arcade game, feeding it from a towering stack of quarters. Archie and Ethel eyed each other in amusement as they made their way to the hot foods counter. “Hot dog?” Archie offered.

“Ugh.”

“Nachos.”

“Uh-uh.”

“Hmmm… taquitos?”

“They’re never good after they’ve been sitting out.”

“You’re killing me. How about popcorn?”

“I can deal with popcorn,” she allowed.

“Churro?”

“Only if they’re fresh.”

“They’re fresh!” Mr. Palmer called over to them from the register, where he was thumbing through a copy of USA Today. “Just made ‘em.”

“Right. Two. What else?”

“How hungry are you, Archie?”

“Ethel, I just finished playing football; I’m starved. I could chew my own arm off right now.”

“Aww… then why did you leave Pop’s?”

“It was crowded, anyway. That’s not the only place that I can eat. Pick us out something to drink.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Doesn’t matter. What’s your favorite?”

“Root beer.”

“Grab a liter of it.”

“I can chip in if you want something else.”

“Don’t worry about it. I like root beer.” He looked mildly annoyed at her for suggesting she pay. Ethel shrugged and helped him pile the goodies on the counter. Archie added on a foil-wrapped hot dog and bag of Chee-Tohs at the last minute, and Mr. Palmer rang them up.

“What are you kids doing out on a cold night like this?”

“Game,” Archie explained simply, nodding down at his jersey.

“Don’t stay out too late. All the nut jobs come out at night. Stay safe.” Archie handed over a twenty. “Watch out for your lady, here,” he warned Archie gruffly, before he winked at Ethel.

“I’ve gotta watch out for him,” Ethel teased, winking back.

“Hey!” Archie poked her side, making her giggle and squirm away, before she poked him back.

“G’night,” Mr. Palmer told them.

“Bye!” Ethel told him cheerfully. As they left the store, she asked Archie, “Where now?”

“Somewhere with a view.” Ethel frowned.

“This is Riverdale. It’s after ten. There’s not much of a view.”

“Sure there is.” Ethel and Archie buckled up, and as she backed out of her space, Archie pointed and told her, “Left. Get on the freeway.”

*

 

Ethel drove mostly one-handed, occasionally dipping into the Chee-Tohs. Archie folded down the wrapper of her churro to make it less messy and handed it to her. “I’m still gonna have to drive you back to your car.”

“No big deal. I’m enjoying the ride. I trust you.” Ethel pulled a face.

“If Ron was there with Reggie, who were you meeting?”

“Eh. Jug. Actually, everybody, I guess. I was planning to go. It wasn’t like I had a date. You were there,” he pointed out.

“I wasn’t even planning on it. Dilton mentioned it, and I didn’t even see him.”

“He had to head home. His mom needed him for something.”

“That’s too bad.” Ethel wondered if her problems would have been solved hanging out with Dilton at a low-visibility table, instead of right in the middle of the “in-crowd.”

“Jug being at the Chok’lit Shoppe didn’t help you make up your mind?”

“Shut. Up.”

“It’s no big deal if it did.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. I really am. Where are we going, again?”

“Turn right.” Ethel was puzzled.

“This looks like the golf course.”

“Smart girl. Park over there.”

“Are we even supposed to be here?”

“Dunno. I just like hanging out here once in a while. It’s quiet.”

“You’re not a ‘quiet hangout’ kinda guy.”

“Says who? Are you gonna eat the rest of that churro?”

“Probably not.”

“Hand it over, then.” Ethel complied and helped herself to some Chee-Tohs. She turned off the engine and unbuckled her seat belt, leaving the radio on. Archie turned down the volume and opened up the soda, offering her the first sip. Their fingers touched slightly as he passed her the root beer; Ethel flushed, but Archie didn’t seem like he noticed.

“Are you and Ronnie on the outs?”

“I didn’t think we were,” he admitted. “Guess we are.”

“That kinda sucks.”

“It happens.”

“Why does it happen?”

“Sometimes she can’t make up her mind.”

“Hello, kettle? Meet pot. Are you listening to yourself?”

“What?”

“You can’t make up your mind, either. Why do you keep ending up with Ron? Betty’s so much cooler, Arch.”

“I know she’s cool, Ethel. I’m not saying she’s not, but…”

“Uh-uh. No ‘buts.’ Betty’s a nice girl. Ron’s a pain in the ass.”

“She has her good qualities.”

“Cross looks off the list, and what do you have left?”

“Aw. C’mon. What, I have to make you a list? She’s funny. She likes to have a good time. She’s fun to take out. We like the same music. She can play an instrument.”

“Okay. Okay. Okay.” Ethel agreed as he ticked points off his fingers. “But you have to admit… Archie, she has a mean side.” He sighed.

“Maybe.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Ethel dug out a handful of Chee-Tohs. “Betty likes you a lot. A lot,” she emphasized. “She tries hard to please you.”

“I know she does. She’s sweet.”

“And talented. And attractive. Good at sports. A good cook. Generous. Patient. Won’t kick you when you’re down. Loyal. A great friend.”

“Bingo. That last one.”

“Huh?”

“A great friend. That’s part of the problem.”

“Why is that a problem?” Ethel said incredulously.

“I can’t even explain it. Betty’s just… Betty. I’m crazy about her.”

“You’d be crazy not to be.”

“I know.” Archie took a long pull off the soda and stared out into the darkened course, watching the trees sway in the strong breeze. “Sometimes, she’s just… too good.”

“Too good. Like, too nice?”

“No. It’s just… I don’t want to disappoint her.”

“Sometimes it seems like you love disappointing her.” Archie scowled and poked her again.

“That’s not what I mean. Betty’s awesome. She’s great. I just feel like… she builds me up so much, that when I mess up… I’ve failed her. I fall off the pedestal.”

“That doesn’t happen with Veronica?”

“She never puts me on the pedestal to begin with. There’s no room for me on it when she’s standing there already.”

“Oh. I guess, huh?”

“Yup. And you know what? That’s your problem, Ethel.”

“How is Veronica being a pain in the ass my problem?”

“No. Goof. You’re… too nice. When you’re around Jug, you throw yourself at him.”

“Geez… not this again.”

“I’m just saying…”

“I know. It’s embarrassing. Can we not do this?”

“Okay. Ethel?”

“Yes?”

“What do you see in Jug?” She sighed.

“Everything.”

“Jug’s just… Jughead.”

“I know. I like that about him. He’s smart. Funny. He says whatever’s on his mind and he doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him. I like hearing him play. He’s easygoing.”

“Okay. I guess you could call him that. I guess a guy who can burp the alphabet and stick his whole fist into his mouth would have to be ‘easygoing.’”

“Okay. So he’s not exactly the polished gentleman, but I like him. It’s kind of how you like pistachio ice cream. The nuts get in your teeth, but it has that special something to it when you eat it. No other flavor’s as satisfying.”

“Maybe that’s my problem.”

“What is?”

“Betty’s too vanilla. Ow!” he yelped as she swatted him.

“You’re not right in the head.”

“I never said I was. Have some soda before I finish the rest of it.” She obeyed, noticing it was half gone. Archie shoved the second empty churro wrapper into the bag and scrubbed his fingers with some of Ethel’s leftover napkins.

“You’re not giving Betty enough credit.”

“I know.”

“No. You don’t know. And now she’s hanging out with Adam.”

“I know they’re hanging out.”

“She really likes him.” That darkened the mood in the car, and Archie turned from her, staring numbly out the window. He combed his fingers through the back of his coppery hair with a sigh.

“Yeah. I figured that.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“No.”

“Do you want her back?”

“Yes. No. Yes!”

“Right. That sums up your problem in a nutshell.”

“It’s not even a problem. I like Betty. I like Veronica. It wasn’t a problem until a few weeks ago.”

“Archie… it kinda was. I guess… that’s what I don’t get about you. Girls like you.” That got his attention. Archie glanced at her and smirked. “News flash!”

“Okay! You don’t get why they like me?”

“No. Goofball… you know what I mean. Betty likes you. Ron likes you. But you can’t make up your mind which one you want to be with more.”

“Lots of guys feel that way. We play the field.”

“What if someone gets hurt? What if someone really nice gets hurt?”

“Well, I guess it’s just time to end it, then,” he shrugged. Ethel shook her head. Poor Betty.

“I sure wish I had the problem of two guys liking me,” she told him. “Must be nice to get that much attention.”

“Guys pay attention to you,” he argued.

“Excuse me, but what planet have you been living on?”

“You’re not exactly invisible. You stand out. You’ve got that ‘little something,’ Ethel.”

“Okay. Where’s the real Archie, and what did you do with him?” she deadpanned. Archie laughed outright, and she threw a Chee-Toh at him. “No guy notices me.”

“They do. You don’t think they do.”

“I’d know if they noticed. My phone would be ringing if they noticed. See this?” She took her little smartphone with its Betty Boop case out of her purse and showed him the display. “Zero new messages. I have no life.”

“Guys notice you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“You look nice tonight,” Archie mentioned. Ethel crossed her arms beneath her breasts and ducked her head. Archie admitted to himself that she looked good in her olive green sweater, with her hair softly pulled back with little barrette clips. There was something vulnerable about her that appealed to him. She had such a slim silhouette and an irregular profile, but she looked prettier with her hair and skin softly lit by the glow from passing traffic.

“I do not.”

“You do. I like you better without all the makeup.”

“Oh… that. Yeah. It… saves me time in the morning when I don’t bother putting it on.” But she wouldn’t admit to Archie that his advice still rang in her ears from that awful afternoon. She glanced at her stereo. “Ten forty-five. I need to get you back to Pop’s. My folks’ll ground me if I’m out too late.”

“That’s fine.” The music cut off for a moment until she put the car in gear, then blared back to life. Her hand accidentally brushed Archie’s shoulder as she wrapped her arm around the back of her seat to look at the rear windshield. Archie flushed, wondering at the small tingle that ran through him.

“Thanks for treating.”

“Sure.”

“Arch?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I just so sorry. I lost you that play.”

“There’s other games. You didn’t lose me anything.”

Ethel felt weird and unsure of what to say. I had fun? Let’s do this again? If she said either, he’d think she’d lost her shit. Archie stewed in the same uncertainly on the other side of the car. They found Pop’s in the same state it was when they’d left it, noisy and crowded. Ethel saw that Reggie still held court in the front booth; she wasn’t sorry she’d left it. When she pulled into the lot, she noticed he hadn’t wasted time in taking her parking spot. Ethel tsked.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing new. See you at school.”

“It’s a date,” he quipped.

“Wha-huh-wha???” Alarms went off in her head. What???

“See you at school,” Archie echoed, staring at her funny. She recovered quickly.

“Right. G’night. It was… fun?” He huffed, and his lips curled in the little, lopsided smirk that Betty often said she loved.

“It was.” He squeezed her hand, and Ethel blushed to the roots of her hair. “G’night.”

She heard him whistling to himself as he made his way to his car. Ethel stared numbly at her steering wheel, wondering what the heck had just happened.

“What the heck just happened?”


End file.
